


The Raven's Darling

by ladywarlock



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Sexual Content, Torture, Violence, super long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywarlock/pseuds/ladywarlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Great Prophesies do not lie, and when Merlin discovers that his destiny is to rise or raze the Seven Kindoms, things begin spiraling out of control. Princess Gwen as his side, he witnesses the warring kingdoms of Glendale and Camelot attempt to write a peace treaty. But when he meets Morgana, everything changes and nothing is ever as it appears. AU. Character Whump. Focused on Mergana, some Arwen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Raven's Darling

Hello there kind readers! And welcome to this monster of a fiction! This fic was previously posted on fanfiction in multiple chapters, so if you prefer that you can just search it up there, but on here it’s just broken down into little next chapter markers for ease of use! In general, it's broken into three huge segments and the markers are in between in case you want to now where you were (it's long, so I don't think it can be completed in one sitting by a mortal). I won’t stop you for any longer and I hope you enjoy it! Please review and leave comments, both constructive and complimentary! I’m still learning so I would love a little feedback!  
Enjoy!  
-ladywarlock  
________________________________________  
Chapter 1: Chapter 1  
________________________________________  
The court was always so cold. So bitter. So desolate. No matter how many colorful garments filled the room, no matter the strength of the perfume that floated off impeccably dressed ladies, the hall lacked warmth. But it wasn't always like this. Not when the baby princess was first born, when nothing could be heard but laughter within the walls of the citadel. Aurora Pendragon was adored from the moment she took her first breath, and the kingdom celebrated the birth of the heir to the throne of Camelot with their sovereigns.  
Arthur and Gwenivere Pendragon were never happier.  
In celebration of her birth, the King and Queen threw a great party, and as the Court Warlock, Emrys, stood by the cradle, preparing to bestow on the child a blessing, the room grew suddenly frigid. The great doors flew open and from the darkness walked in the High Priestess Morgana. Before anyone could retaliate, she cast a terrible spell on the girl, and Aurora was cursed to an eternal slumber. But Emrys was clever and quick, retaliating with another, so that true love's first kiss could break the terrible curse.  
Dear reader, I suspect you now expect me to recant the tale of Sleeping Beauty. The tale of the enchanted princess Aurora and the brave prince who will come to her aid, braving terrible beasts to save her. But I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you and say that this is not the story I'm here to tell. No, I'm here to tell you the story of Emrys and Morgana before they were destined to fight on opposing sides of the board.  
If you'll allow me, I'd like to take you back in time, far before Emrys was Emrys and Morgana was the most feared High Priestess in the seven kingdoms. Let's go back seventeen years.  
You are in a farm village. Scrawny cows graze in the yellowed fields; houses stand dirty next to each other, their shingles falling with the smallest gusts of wind. Do not get comfortable, we won't be here long. Enter a young man. He has ebony hair and eyes whose color rival that of the South Seas. Wearing threadbare clothes, he carries on his thin shoulders large sacks of grain.  
His name, Merlin.  
From afar, he appears to be an average farmboy, whose destiny will contain nothing more than a mundane existence in a forgotten town at the edge of a great kingdom. But you see, my dearest reader, this boy has a gift, and rumors of it have traveled further than anyone could have foreseen. In fact, whispers of his ability have reached the court of the King Leodogrance. Loved by many, the ruler of the kingdom of Glendale is always on the lookout for additions to his gifted court. Artists, poets, writers (such as myself), musicians, chefs, mathematicians…and it goes on. Humbly said, the most brilliant are always found within the stone walls of the citadel. However, one gift that the King has been unable to boast is magic. The Old Religion has long since faded, and now there are very few born with the ability to transcend the planes of fantasy and reality. So when word of a boy at the outskirts of the empire with power potent enough to reach the ears of a king seated in his fortress, the sovereign did not hesitate in sending an envoy to fetch the young man and bring him under his protective care. There, the King could watch as the greatest professors nurtured the boy's gift so that, someday, it could serve the growing power of Glendale.  
That is how a farmboy found himself at the gates of a place he had only ever dreamed of.  
________________________________________  
Now dear reader, I will leave you to enjoy this tale. I'll warn you that while it may appear to be, this is not a fairytale, and unlike fairytales, this story will not have a happy ending. But if your heart is strong enough, then I bid you luck and a fond farewell as you leave to start this journey. So prepare yourself and pack your bags with your favorite snacks (hot cocoa is always perfect in such situations) because your story starts (-dramatic pause-) now.  
________________________________________  
Stepping down from the rich carriage, Merlin looked up at the brilliant white turrets of the castle. In a daze, the farmboy stumbled forward, disbelieving, as he tried to take in as much as he could, all the while trying to figure whether this was just a dream.  
"Boy. Boy."  
Merlin shook himself out of his amazed stupor as a sharp voice called out to him. Tearing his eyes away from the gargantuan stone dwelling, he turned at the sound.  
The man was richly dressed from head to foot, and even though he had never worn anything so fine, Merlin couldn't help but think that the man looked ridiculous. He was dressed in bright red pants embroidered with gold, and wore a bright purple velvet jacket which was tied all the way up to his chin. Bright yellow ruffles sprung from the jacket and put the man's head at a seemingly break neck position with his chin almost lifted all the way up. And not only was his outfit frightening, so was the man's posture. His back was board straight, his feet stiff, and his ankles pressed together. He held in his hand a large feather quill and a leather notebook in which he was madly scribbling.  
"You know, it's rude to stare, "the man barked.  
"So…sorry," Merlin stuttered.  
"Sorry, sir," the man corrected strictly, putting a heavy emphasis on the last word. "Now come on, boy, I don't have all day." With that, he turned around and walked through the large doors, not looking back to check he was being followed (the pompous pigeon).  
Securing his small bag around his shoulder, Merlin leapt up the stairs and followed the man into the castle, and unknowingly, to his destiny.  
The man ahead walked briskly through the labyrinth of halls. How will I memorize all these passages? Merlin thought as he turned corner after corner, walking down hall after hall of richly decorated corridors. So immersed he was in the scenery, that he ran into his guide when the man suddenly stopped.  
"Sorry…sir," Merlin blustered, nearly forgetting the formality at the end.  
"Don't you know any other words?" the man asked sharply as he brushed himself off. "Now boy, these are the quarters of the court physician, Gaius. You'll be staying and helping him—the King does not take kindly to useless wards." And with those brisk words, the man was gone, leaving Merlin in front of old, worn mahogany doors, hesitant to enter.  
Plucking up what little courage he possessed, Merlin lifted his hand and knocked on the door, turning the old brass doorknob and entering when a gruff voice from inside said to do so. He closed the door behind him and looked around the room. It was fairly large, and every surface was covered with books or glass containers housing things from herbs to preserved eyeballs. Seated at one of the tables, an old man in a dark red tunic was studying the contents of a dirty glass vial. The man looked up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the raven haired boy at his door.  
"Merlin…sir." Walking over, the boy handed the man a letter. "I'm here—"  
"I know who you are." The old physician stood up and looked up at the boy, slightly disappointed that the young man was taller than him. "My name is Gaius. Let me show you to your room."  
Gaius led Merlin to the end of the room where a small staircase led to small, sparsely decorated room. "Set down your things and let me fix you something, I'm sure you're hungry from your long trip. Ealdor is quite a ways from here."  
"You've been to Ealdor?" Merlin asked, surprised. Few people knew of the village's existence, let alone traveled there.  
"A lifetime ago," he muttered in reply, but said nothing else on the matter before leaving the room.  
As he arranged his things, Merlin took a closer look at the place that would be his home for who knows how long. A small desk sat in the corner, and a worn wooden cupboard rested empty across from a window. Walking towards the little opening, Merlin looked out onto the city. The sun was beginning to set, and lights were being lit all over the city. Smoke rose from the multitude of buildings down below, and he watched as people made their way back home.  
He smiled.  
Tearing his eyes away from the view, Merlin walked down the steps and to the main room, taking a seat at an old bench. Gaius trudged over and handed the boy a bowl of what looked like white sludge, placing a large bucket of water on the table in front of him.  
"Thank you, Sir," Merlin said hesitantly.  
"Enough with that Sir business, there is no need for it here."  
"But the man who brought me here—"  
"Oh, Martin is an arrogant fool, a stickler for rules. Ignore him. Now eat before it gets cold."  
Merlin nodded and picked up his spoon, trying to hide his disgust and preparing himself to eat whatever the physician had handed him. Gaius looked at him from the corner of his blue eyes, observing. Suddenly, without warning, the physician hit his hand on the bucket, sending it tumbling. For an instant, Merlin's eyes glowed gold, and the pail froze. Gaius gasped and Merlin looked at him in shock before dropping his hand. The bucket hit the floor, water spilling everywhere.  
It spread on the floor, slowly soaking the bottom of Gaius's tunic, but the man paid it no mind. He was fixated instead on the boy seated at his table.  
"So the rumors are true."  
"What rumors?" Merlin asked hesitantly, wringing his pale hands.  
"That you can do magic, the likes of which have never been seen before."  
"Sorry?"  
Gaius took a seat next to the boy, still looking at him curiously—if not a little nervously. "Do you know anything about magic, boy?"  
"Not much…I've never studied if that's what you mean."  
"Well most magic isn't instinctual—" Seeing the boy's confusion, Gaius amended himself. "What I mean is that when most magicians use their skills, they have to think and use spells. The magic doesn't simply come to them naturally. Which begs the question, where did you learn to do so?"  
"I don't know. I was born like this." Merlin stood up and walked towards the window across the room to look at the darkening sky before continuing quietly, his voice choked and broken. "So it's true. I am a monster, I'm cursed."  
"No, my boy. What you have is a gift. Why do you think you were brought here if not because you possess it? Yours is an ability that even a king desires."  
"I thought I was just brought here because the King feared that I would hurt someone."  
"And that he does. Anyone who is wise would fear your ability. It's like has little been seen ever in the Seven Kingdoms. Obviously, he's apprehensive, but he admires it even more. "  
"But I've only ever been told that magic is evil."Merlin replied bitterly.  
"Magic is like a sword. It can be used for great things just as for terrible things. With the proper training, your magic can be used as a force for good." Gaius sighed as he looked at the boy's back. "Now come and eat your supper. You should get to bed soon—it'll be a long day tomorrow."  
Merlin turned and followed his new guardian's orders, picking up the spoon and preparing to eat the glue in his bowl. He was about to take a mouthful before a hand stopped him, Gaius looking at him with what could be a smile-Merlin wasn't quite sure how to read this man's emotions yet.  
"Here," Gaius handed him a sandwich and Merlin smiled before beginning to eat, the previous conversation already forgotten.  
That night, after seeing that the boy had gone to bed, Gaius slipped out of his chambers. Walking down the corridors silently, the old physician made his way to the throne room, where King Leodogrance was seated—deep in thought.  
"My lord. I'm sorry to disturb you."  
The King started, but smiled at the sight of one of his most trusted advisers. "Not at all, Gaius. What news do you have on the newest addition to Glendale?"  
"The boy is well mannered and quiet, if not a bit flustered. But give him time and I'm sure he'll fit in well here. This is a lot to take in for a country boy."  
"Of course…" Trailing off, the King ran his finger on the polished wooden armrest of his throne. "Have you seen his…gift?"  
"Yes," Gaius replied softly, thinking back to it, his eyes filling with awe at the memory. "I've not seen such a display of the Old Religion for a very long time. The boy is powerful, there is no denying it. However, he is conflicted. It will take time for him to become comfortable using an ability which he has grown up believing is wrong."  
The King cursed. "Uther's influence grows. Camelot's fear of magic has even reached the edges of my empire."  
"This boy could change that."  
"What do you mean?"  
Gaius was quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words. "With a gift like his, he could become an example to the kingdom. A living proof that magic is good and not as terrible as Uther spells it out to be..."  
"…And in turn, weaken Camelot's authority." The King smiled as he completed the thought. "See to it that the boy starts his tutelage tomorrow."  
Bowing slightly, the physician turned to leave. As he was closing the doors behind him, the King's voice stopped him.  
"Gaius?"  
"Yes, my lord?"  
"What's the boy's name?"  
"Merlin."  
________________________________________  
Chapter 2: Welcome to Your New Life  
________________________________________  
"Rise and shine. It's a terrible day out, go make it better."  
Merlin yawned widely and stretched in the tiny bed, his black hair ruffled, his white bed shirt crumpled. He groaned. "What time is it?"  
"Does it matter? Your new life starts now, boy, and if you don't get up, you'll find it'll end before it's really begun."  
The boy groaned again, but complied, pulling himself off the bed and getting dressed as Gaius fixed breakfast. When he at last fastened his bright red neckerchief round his throat, Merlin made his way down the stairs and towards what he now knew was the dining table. Gaius looked him up and down, eyeing his outfit critically.  
"What?" Merlin asked, following his gaze and looking down at himself, before continuing in a near panicked voice. "Don't tell me I have to dress like that Michael guy."  
"Martin," Gaius amended. "And no, what you're wearing will have to do. But chances are that if the professors think you have promise and you're officially welcomed to the court, you'll have to dress in finer clothes."  
"But I can't afford anything else. I have no money—"  
"The King gives his wards monthly payments for necessities, housing, clothes, and food, but since you're working for me you have both food and housing covered, and you can save the rest for other things."  
Merlin nodded in understanding, and the two continued their meal in silence. When they were finished, it was Gaius who broke the quiet. "You are to meet the other wards and your professors now. You'll need to go to the library."  
"How do I get there?"  
"Just walk and ask around. It'll help you get to know people."  
"Thank you." Merlin pulled on his jacket and began to walk towards the door when he felt Gaius's hand on his shoulder, stopping him.  
"Here." Gaius brushed the boy's hair back, fixing it as best he could. "Remind me to give you a haircut when you get back. Now off you go."  
When the door closed behind him, Merlin walked confidently down the hall before stopping and seeing two passages. Suddenly, the warlock realized his predicament—he had absolutely no idea where he was going. "Find someone and ask. Get to the library," Merlin muttered to himself under his breath. Inhaling in preparation, the boy chose right and began to blindly make his way through that labyrinth of a castle.  
Turning a corner, Merlin finally caught sight of long purple skirts-somebody who might now their way around "Hey!" Calling out, he jogged towards the figure at the end of the corridor. "Hello!"  
The figure turned around just as Merlin reached her, and he stopped dead. She was beautiful, with smooth copper skin and long, dark, curly tresses. "Sorry," he fumbled, trying to reorganize his thoughts. "I'm hopelessly lost."  
"And I'm not, "she replied with a smile. "Where do you need to be?"  
"The library."  
The beautiful girl smiled again. "That's where I'm headed now. Are you a new student?"  
"Yes. My name is…" Stopping, he tried remember it "…Merlin," he said confidently, proud at having remembered—but he blushed when he realized what a fool he must look.  
"Gwenivere Leodogrance, but most people call me Gwen. It's a pleasure meeting you, Merlin."  
"Likewise," he replied in awe. "You're the Princess."  
"That's what happens when you're the King's daughter," Gwen teased. "Now come on, we can't let you be late for your first day of classes."  
Together, they made their way down the hallways, and pretty soon the pair was laughing after realizing that they had quite a bit in common. Every now and then, Gwen would point out a landmark and Merlin would tuck it in his mind to help him remember his way around the vast citadel.  
"Here we are," she said finally, as they reached large, tall doors, guards opening them at the sight of the Princess. "The royal library."  
Merlin's eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. Reaching from the richly carpeted floors to the lofty painted ceilings, shelves carried thousands upon thousands of books. Thick volumes to thin volumes, their multitude was unrivaled in all the seven kingdoms. Gargantuan ladders attached to small wheels carried students and scholars alike to the texts of their choice. Merlin's ears filled with the sound of excited talk and the rustling of paper, the sound of ladders rolling across to different shelves. Across from the great doors at the entrance was a wall made of nothing but glass. The polished window gave those inside a view of the whole kingdom, from the seas to the great mountains, from the great wide open fields to the vast forests, from the borders of Cenred's kingdom to the borders of Uther's.  
Gwen leaned over. "I know. It's my favorite part of the castle-other than the roof."  
Merlin nodded in agreement, his blue eyes still struggling to take in all that he could of the stunning view. But Gwen would have none of it and took him by the elbow, dragging him towards the end of the room where there was a large mahogany desk, behind of which sat three finely robed men looking over the individuals in the incredible space.  
"Those are the head scholars; they watch over us, assign our teachers, and work. They'll tell you what to do. Now come on, close your mouth, you don't want them to see a bug fly in there—you look enough of a fool already."  
"Sure, yeah….hey!" Merlin said, finally snapping out of whatever spell the room had cast on him. Gwen just giggled.  
"Go, I need to get to work."  
Watching her as she left, Merlin shook his head in amazement at the girl who had led him here. But apprehension soon overtook him as he looked towards the masters of the hall, and he swallowed as he slowly walked over.  
"Umm…hello…My name is Merlin…" The boy choked out as he reached them, and their eyes turned to him, eyebrows narrowing in unison.  
A tall man with black hair and frighteningly-pale skin spoke first in a deep voice. "Ahhhh, Mr. Merlin, the farm boy. Our new…celebrity."  
"Sorry, sir, I don't understand—"  
"Yes. I don't suppose you do."  
"Enough." The man seated next to him spoke. His hair was light brown, and he wore a simple brown tunic, nothing in comparison to the two men seated beside him. But that wasn't at all his most notable feature, because the left side of his face was terribly disfigured; however, that didn't dull the twinkle of kindness in his eyes. "This is probably a lot to take in. How are you finding the palace, Merlin? I hope you are beginning to like it here."  
"I've not been here long, but I like it so far," Merlin replied, his eyes still on the dark-haired man.  
"My name is Edwin. And I, for one, would like to welcome you here, because some clearly have forgotten that you are still a guest here, and so deserve the utmost hospitality." His eyes flashed towards the dark-haired man, who merely sneered. "This is Surevres." Edwin gestured to the sneering man. "And this is Phillip." The old man at his right nodded his head in greeting. "Now, Merlin, if you could follow me, please."  
Edwin rose to his feet and began walking up stairs near the desks, Merlin following, and the other two scholars walking right after the boy. The staircase was made of black iron and spiraled up to a door embedded in the shelves. Through the doorway and the following stone hallways, the three men and boy made their way to an impossibly large room, devoid of anything but the gray stones it was made of.  
"This, Merlin, is our training area. We generally fill it with weapons for our knights to practice with, but the only weapon you need is inside you, isn't it?"  
"My magic?" Merlin asked in surprise at his gift being referred to as a weapon.  
"Well, of course your magic, boy, why else would you be here?" Surevres snapped with a sneer—a facial expression that Merlin was coming to believe to be the only one the man could manage.  
"Yes, Merlin, your magic. Now, what do you know about the subject?" Edwin asked softly, ignoring Sureves's remark.  
"Nothing really, it just…comes to me."  
"Do you know any spells?"  
"No."  
"Potions?"  
"No."  
"Creatures?"  
"No."  
"Do you know anything, boy?" Surevres interjected sharply.  
"I'm sorry, sir, I know nothing of magic- only that I was born with it."  
"A warlock," Phillip breathed, the old man finally speaking.  
"Yes. That's what my mother called me," Merlin said apprehensively, doing his best not to back away when the old man approached him, coming uncomfortably close as he studied the dark haired boy.  
"We three are the only in the court capable of harnessing the powers of the Old Religion, so we'll be your teachers, "Edwin said softly, trying to put the boy at ease.  
"And it seems like we have a lot to do," Surevres muttered.  
Edwin shot him another look. "Now, Merlin, we are going to see what you're capable of. We are going to practice a few basic spells, just to get a gist of how easily the incantations will work with you. Can you do that for me?"  
"Yeah." His stomach filling with butterflies, Merlin swallowed his fear and squared his shoulders.  
"Repeat after me. Forbearnen." Edwin held out his hand, and from his finger leapt a small ball of flame. "Say it strongly, and try to focus all your strength and power into it."  
Merlin nodded and held out his hand, concentrating on the palm of his hand. "Forbearnen." His eyes glowed gold and flame leapt out of his hand, the blast sending his new teachers to the other side of the room.  
"Sorry!" Merlin closed his palm and the fire was gone.  
"No, no, Merlin. That was good, very good." Edwin brushed himself off, helping Phillip to his feet, his blue eyes wide.  
"Good!? The boy has absolutely no restraint," Surevres snapped as he brushed off his own black robes, attempting to slick back his greasy shoulder length black hair.  
"Well, of course. He hasn't been trained. " Phillip walked towards Merlin. "Son, could you do that again, but not concentrate as much?"  
Nodding again, Merlin-still shocked at the fire that had just shot from him mere moments ago-opened up his palm again, whispering the incantation under his breath.  
A small ball of flame leapt up, and Merlin stepped back in surprise, wincing slightly as he expected the fire to burn him. But it didn't. It just was soft in his palm, warm and slightly ticklish. The warlock looked at it in wonder.  
"Wonderful, "Phillip breathed. "Absolutely splendid."  
Merlin looked up at him, to Edwin, to Surevres, then back down at the lick of flame he had conjured with only a breath.  
"Yes, Merlin. I think…I think that'll be all for today, "Edwin said softly and Merlin closed his palm, dismissing the fire. "Here." The scholar left the room for a moment, and returned with three thick volumes. "Read and practice with the blue one, you can study the green if you choose, but don't open the red until we are with you."  
Merlin nodded, accepting the heavy books, looking at his teachers and waiting.  
Surevres's thick eyebrows narrowed. "That means you're dismissed boy."  
"Oh, sorry." Merlin walked quickly out the room, but as he reached the doorway, Edwin's voice stopped him.  
"Merlin. You're going to need this to read the books." The scholar handed him a small slip of paper, on which were runes and their Latin equivalents. "Good luck. Practice. If you need any help, just ask Gaius."  
"Gaius?"  
"Yes. Gaius used to study the Old Religion, "Edwin replied.  
"Why used to? Did he stop?"  
"Yes."  
"Why?"  
"I think that is up for him to tell you." The scholar winked, a motion that Merlin found disturbing when coupled with his disfigured features. "Now off you go."  
Merlin looked at the three one last time before finally walking out the door and down the stairs, joining the other pupils in the vast library.  
Edwin, Philllip, and Surevres watched him as he disappeared in the crowd.  
"Well?" Edwin broke the silence as he looked at his companions. "What do you think of him?"  
"He's powerful, more so than I anticipated," Phillip replied. "He's spectacular—"  
"Are you both blind?" Surevres snapped. "The boy is dangerous. To teach him would be to the seal the demise of the kingdom."  
"Or it's salvation."  
"You think that, Phillip? You saw what he could do. With power comes corruption, and it'll only be a matter of time before his power is even greater than ours, and no one will be his equal."  
"Why do you hate him so much, Surevres?" Phillip asked. "The boy has not yet given you a reason to dislike him."  
"What does it matter what he does? What matters is what he's capable of. I say we stop this nonsense and forget about the boy before his magic becomes more than innocent."  
"So much raw power, "Edwin murmured, and the two stopped, finally quiet. "So much raw power in such a young person. Surevres, whatever you might say, the boy cannot be ignored. If we do not train him, than someone else will, and they might have ill intentions."  
"Then, Edwin, you know what we must do—"  
"Kill him?" Phillip cried. "I'm appalled at you, Surevres. I never thought that your jealousy could go so far—"  
"Jealousy? How dare you make such an accusation, you feeble-minded old buffoon—"  
"Then what other reason have you for hating him—"  
"I have nothing but the needs of the kingdom in mind—"  
"ENOUGH!" The two stopped, still glaring at each other. "Enough bickering, the both of you. This doesn't help us." Edwin turned to Surevres. "We won't be killing anyone, and that leaves us with no other option. We will teach the boy, and we will treat him like one of our own. Is that understood?" he asked, fixing Surevres with a look.  
"Edwin—"  
"No. The boy has done nothing wrong, and so does not deserve your anger. We will watch him, teach him, and guide him—"  
"Edwin, I implore you to see reason." Surevres walked towards him. "You heard the prophesy. You heard what Kilgarrah said."  
"Yes. That the boy is and will be the most powerful to ever live, and that when the crimson moon falls into eclipse with the sun, the boy will make a decision that will either destroy or save the seven kingdoms."  
Surevres nodded. "But still you seek to teach him. Can't you see the folly?"  
"But you forget, my friend, that Kilgarrah also said the boy is Emrys, the one destined to bring forth the land of Albion, to bring magic back to the seven kingdoms—"  
"You know as well as I, Edwin, that could either be light or dark."  
"Yes, that is why we must guide him to the light, so that when the time comes for him to make the choice, he'll choose salvation instead of destruction."  
"Wouldn't it be better just to be rid of him?"  
"Surevres, you know that the prophesies cannot be avoided. They will come to pass. Merlin will have to make that decision when the crimson moon eclipses, no matter what happens in the time before it."  
"Edwin, the moon eclipses in four years. We don't have enough time—"  
"Then we'd best stop wasting it," Edwin snapped. "And that is the end of it, Surevres. I have made my decision. The boy will learn, he will live here, and he will be treated with the respect he deserves."  
"Fine, but you will regret this." With that, Surevres was gone.  
Phillip sighed and put a comforting hand on Edwin's shoulder. "You did the right thing."  
"I hope so." Edwin walked to the doorway and looked down at the students, finding Merlin's disheveled black hair seated at a table with the princess. "Do you think he'll be ready?"  
"Only time will tell."  
________________________________________  
"Merlin!" Gwen smiled as the young man approached her. She was seated at one of the great tables in the library—alone.  
"Do you mind if I join you?"  
"Of course not!" Gwen moved her books to the side to give him room to set his things. "Sorry, I have a lot of materials…"  
"What are you studying?" He asked as he took his seat.  
"The law of Glendale. It's what's expected of the heir to the throne. It's probably the dullest material on Earth, but it's what I have to do. My professor would kill me if I didn't do my homework-but enough about me. Tell me, how was your session? I saw the scholars disappearing with you to the training area."  
"Yeah. They're my teachers."  
"The heads are your teachers?" she asked in surprise. "What did they say? What did you do?"  
"Nothing really. I was so overwhelmed the whole time that I probably looked like an idiot." Seeing that he had not sated Gwen's curiosity, he continued, elaborating more. "They tested the strength of my magic by asking me to practice a spell. I did well—I think. It was terrifying, " Merlin admitted, and the princess laughed.  
"I'll bet."  
"By the way, what's up with that Surevres guy? He really didn't seem to like me…"  
"Don't take is personally. He doesn't like anyone, but don't get on his wrong side and he won't be too vicious."  
"I think it's too late for that. I guess I did something to annoy him, if only I knew what…"  
Gwen gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, then I guess you just have to get on his good side. What is it that they gave you to do?"  
"I have to read and practice from the blue book," he said, looking down at the thick volume. Opening it, he froze.  
"Merlin? What's wrong?" Gwen asked, leaning over to look at the book. "What is that?"  
Merlin picked up the slip of paper Edwin gave him, and looked back down at the book. The thick volume was written in the runes, every last page. "I have to translate all of this?" he breathed.  
Gwen stifled a laugh at his expression. "It appears so. You'd better get to work."  
"This is going to take forever," he groaned, flipping the pages and seeing nothing but rune upon rune.  
"I'll bet it will."  
Merlin looked up at her, the two locked eyes, and after a moment's silence they burst into laughter.  
"I am screwed," he gasped, struggling for breath.  
"Yes, yes, you are." Gwen said, doing the same. "Now we have to be quiet; people are starting to look."  
They looked at each other again, and were overcome again by another fit of laughter.  
"What is so funny?" A stiff voice cured them and they looked up to see Martin looking down at them with narrowed eyes.  
"Nothing, Martin. Merlin just told me a funny joke," Gwen replied, giving the garishly-dressed adult her best poker face.  
"Did he now? Well, Princess, remind Mr. Merlin that this is a library in which we don't tell… jokes (saying the word as he would say 'mouldy haggis'). Is that understood?" he replied coldly, directing the last comment at the dark-haired newcomer.  
"Crystally." Merlin watched Martin as he walked away, before turning back to Gwen. "Who is Martin anyways?"  
"I guess you could say he's the head of the wards and the head butler. I don't think there is a real word for what he does. He's a pain in the ass, though."  
"Gwen!" Merlin exclaimed, pulling a shocked face, hiding his smile. "I didn't think princesses used such common language."  
The aforementioned snorted. "Well, you could say I'm not much of a princess. My father expects me to work just like everyone else, says it keeps me grounded and nice."  
"It's working," Merlin said, then seeing the look on her face, he turned beet red and began to flounder. "I mean you aren't terrible to hang out with. You're actually the nicest person I've met here."  
"That's because I'm one of the only people you've met here." Gwen giggled. "And thank you, you're not bad yourself—for a magical farmboy."  
"Glad to please you, my Lady." Merlin gave her a cheeky smile and the two laughed again.  
And so they stayed like that for the rest of the day, enjoying the pleasure of each other's company while dually mocking each other because of the dull work they had been assigned. When the library finally emptied and the sun set, the two lifted their books and left, Gwen leading Merlin to Gaius's chambers. When they reached the familiar doors, Merlin turned to the princess, a blush creeping up his pale cheekbones.  
"You know, it's customary for a man to walk a woman to her door, not the other way around."  
"Says the farmboy to the Princess," Gwen said, lifted her head up high to feign authority. "Who's got the power here?"  
"You never know. Someday, I might become some powerful sorcerer, and I'll remind you of that comment when you come begging at my doorstop to help you with my awesome powers."  
"That day is far off, Merlin, so I won't hold my breath," the Princess replied with a satisfied smile.  
"Touché."  
She giggled and brushed down her dress. "Tomorrow we don't have classes, just in case you're still unfamiliar with the schedule here. We have classes every other day; the additional day is for you to work. I'm guessing Gaius will have plenty for you to get done."  
Merlin sighed. "Don't you ever catch a break here?"  
"No—not unless there is something big planned and classes are canceled. They work us like mules, but that makes it all the sweeter when you finally graduate."  
"It's not sweet now."  
"No," Gwenivere laughed. "No, it's not."  
"Well then," Merlin trailed off. "I'd better get inside. Who knows what Gaius has planned for me…Goodnight, Princess."  
"Goodnight, magical farmboy."  
________________________________________  
Chapter 3: The Adventure Begins  
________________________________________  
"Focus."  
"I am focusing."  
Merlin's eyes glowed a brilliant gold as he kept the other wizard in his line of sight. Edwin stood across him, and without warning, let fly a dozen daggers of all different sizes. Holding out his hand, the daggers stopped in mid air, Merlin freezing them without uttering one of the many spells he had become comfortable with. Eyebrows furrowed, his eyes glowing even brighter, the daggers turned around at his command and flew at Edwin, breaking the other sorcerer's shield and stopping right before they pierced his skin.  
Edwin smiled, "you get stronger every day."  
"If I'm getting stronger, then why won't you let me get out of here and put my skills to the test? You know I'm ready."  
"You're not ready yet. Magic must be studied, mastered, and used for good. Not for silly things."  
"What is there to master?! I could move objects like that since before I could talk."  
"Then by now you should know how to control it."  
"I do!"  
"Not yet, Merlin. You have to show some restraint when you use magic. Only yesterday, you had that incident in the barn where you sent all the brooms in the castle to help you clean up."  
"What if I don't want to show restraint? Magic is all I have! I should be at liberty to use it—"  
"Enough!" Edwin snapped. "You're not ready and that's the end of it."  
"No."  
The older sorcerer narrowed his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"  
"What are you so afraid of?" Merlin asked, squaring his shoulders. "I've been here a year, Edwin. Spells, potions, creatures—I've mastered it. I can't learn more being cooped up here in the castle. You claim that I need to use my magic for good, then let me use it for such."  
"I've told you before, boy; the people aren't ready for magic. Uther's influence has grown even stronger; people aren't comfortable with it as a solution to their problems."  
"You keep saying that, and you keep saying that I can change that perception. Why don't you give me the chance? Do you not trust me?"  
"Don't ever think that," Edwin walked forward and put his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "I just don't want to see you getting hurt."  
Merlin pulled away. "More like you don't want to see other people getting hurt."  
Edwin shook his head. "Merlin—"  
"No, Edwin. You can't keep me locked here forever." With that, the dark-haired boy walked out, leaving his professor at a loss of what to do.  
________________________________________  
"No."  
"Surevres—"  
"No, Edwin. He's not ready yet."  
"He's been here a year. Merlin has a point. We can't keep him here, protected in the castle's walls. The moon eclipses in three years, and he needs to be ready—"  
"And he will be—after being safely guided by us."  
"He won't be ready if he can't use it in real situations."  
Phillip, quiet as ever, finally interrupted. "I think Edwin's right, Surevres. I don't like it any more than you, but you've seen the boy. He's mastered almost all we know in only a year. But he can't reach his potential if we keep protecting him like this."  
"And you think knowing the truth will make him wiser? Imagine knowing what you want him to know. To know that the destiny of the known world rests on his one decision is too much for one so naïve."  
Edwin sighed. "I know. But the prophesy approaches, he needs to know—"  
"-That he may be destined to destroy the world? I wonder how that conversation will go," Surevres snorted.  
"I may have a solution," Phillip said quietly. "What if we get him to tell Merlin."  
"NO," Edwin and Surevres said in unison.  
"I wouldn't trust that lizard for as far as I could spit," Edwin continued.  
"For once, I agree with Edwin."  
"Well, we could have the boy meet him, and if it's time to tell him, the dragon will. No matter how much longer we wait, it won't make anything any better. He needs to know, and I, for one, would rather not be the one to break it to him," Phillip replied.  
Edwin sighed. "What if he eats him?"  
Surevres laughed. "Then all of our troubles will be over."  
Phillip gave the dark-haired man a look before turning back to Edwin. "While you don't like him, Kilgarrah is wiser than that."  
Edwin's face twisted in thought, and he turned slowly to Surevres.  
"No, Edwin. Edwin, don't do this."  
"It might not be such a bad idea…"  
Surevres threw his arms in the air. "I'm done with you both. Do whatever you want, but I'm not chaperoning."  
The dark-haired man stormed out, his black robe sweeping behind him.  
The other two men were quiet, and it was Phillip who finally broke the silence. "He's always been one for dramatic exits."  
Edwin looked at him and after a moment, the two sorcerers burst out laughing. "So we have a decision?" Phillip continued.  
"Yes. Yes we do. "  
________________________________________  
When Merlin arrived for his lesson, he was playing with his hands. Upon catching sight of Edwin, he let out a string of swiftly spoken words. "I'm so sorry Edwin, I don't know what I was thinking, I was just frustrated and bored—"  
"Don't worry about it, Merlin. I thought about what you said, and I think you're right."  
"You do?"  
"Yes, "Phillip replied. "We've decided to send you on a trip."  
Merlin's eyes narrowed, looking at the three men in confusion. "A trip? Where?"  
"Passed the Locksley Forests, and passed the white capped mountains, is the Valley of Darkness—it's a clearing that rests in the middle of the Dark Mountains. There you'll find the last remaining Dragon, a creature that will give you all the answers you seek, as well as more wisdom than we could ever teach you. " Phillip looked at the boy's face, watching as the brilliant blue eyes widened.  
"A dragon," Merlin breathed, but then he stopped, looking at them in dawning realization. "You said I'll find, singular. You mean you're not coming with me?"  
"Yes. This is a trip you'll have to make on your own. Anyways, last time we spoke with Kilgarrah—let's say that he doesn't like us very much."  
Merlin nodded, still astounded. "When do I leave? What do I have to do?"  
"You leave at dawn tomorrow," Surevres said. "We'll give you the maps. You've already mastered runes, and you know enough spells to keep you alive."  
Taking a deep breath, Merlin turned to Edwin. "Do you think I'm ready?"  
"Yes, Merlin," Edwin replied with a soft smile. "I was a fool thinking you weren't."  
Merlin nodded. "So find the dragon, ask him about me, and come back. Sounds easy enough."  
"Not quite." Phillip conjured a table and set on it a large worn map. "On the way, you'll meet terrible creatures, not to mention you'll be staying in the wilderness. The trip shouldn't take you more than two weeks, but you should know that no matter how long it takes you, no one will come to search for you. You'll have to do this on your own." The old man's eyes glowed gold, and suddenly a path darkened on the map. "Follow this, and you won't be led astray."  
Taking the map, Merlin folded it gingerly, before turning to his three teachers again. "Thank you. I won't let you down."  
"You'd better not boy, you've wasted enough of my time, " Surevres snapped before leaving the room, clearly uninterested in giving any kind of luck or farewell to his pupil.  
"Good luck, my boy." Phillip clapped his hand on Merlin's shoulder, a gesture mirrored by Edwin.  
"I'm sure you'll do wonderfully, " Edwin said. "Now you'd best go pack and ready your horse in the stables—and be sure to say goodbye to Gwen. She'll have your head faster than the dragon if you don't."  
Merlin smiled. "Of course. Thank you, Edwin, for everything."  
Edwin nodded and left the room with Phillip, and, finding himself alone, Merlin jumped up and down and did a little jig. "YES." Then straightening himself up, Merlin calmly left the room- an excited smile gracing his pale features.  
________________________________________  
"GAIUS!" Merlin shouted in uncontained excitement. "GUESS WHOSE LEAVING THE BLOODY CASTLE!"  
"My dear boy, I may be old but I'm not stupid. I know it's you who is leaving, there's no reason to shout. However, might this thick old man ask to where you are going?"  
"To see the last dragon and ask him why I'm like this. The professors gave me a map and I'm to leave tomorrow, "he replied, lowering his voice.  
Gaius narrowed his eyes at the young man by the door. In the short year that he had been here, Merlin had almost become a new person. The boy was still slim and pale, but his shoulders were pulled back in confidence, and his features were already older. My, how they grow, leaving us, the old, to wither with their youth. "Tomorrow?"  
"Yes, tomorrow… I need to pack!" Merlin jumped up to his room and grabbed the pack that he had brought to Glendale, but Gaius's wrinkled hand stopped him. "It's not fitting for you to carry that. Here, take mine." The old man handed him a worn leather backpack, embroidered delicately near the edges. "There, that is more fitting, and it'll fit your things much better."  
"Thank you, Gaius, but it's too much. I couldn't possibly—"  
"Don't be silly, boy, take it. I have no need for it."  
"Thank you, "Merlin managed, running his hand over the soft dark leather.  
Gaius nodded. "I'll prepare you some provisions. I should pack some useful herbs, and maybe jot down a few useful incantations."  
Merlin quickly got to work, looking through his many volumes that lay scattered around his room, and was finished just as Gaius placed some food in his pack. "This will last you a week, but if you ever catch sight of any edible berries, then be sure to pick them. You never know what might happen."  
The raven-haired boy placed a few changes of clothes in the sack, and a small notebook, which held some useful spells on top of everything. He studied his work, and slowly the nervousness began to catch up to him. Holy shit, I'm going to see a dragon.  
"Gaius…"  
"Yes, Merlin?"  
"Do you think the dragon will eat me?"  
Gaius laughed. "Kilgarrah is nothing more than an overgrown lizard, overly fond of riddles and turning men mad, but he's much too delicate to eat someone as bony as you."  
"You know the dragon?"  
"Oh yes, I met Kilgarrah once, when I was in Uther's kingdom. Camelot's King was on a rampage against the creatures and when Kilgarrah was captured under his castle, a dragon lord and I went to free him. We were successful, and I never saw the two again."  
"I underestimated you, Gaius."  
"That's because you're still a child."  
"Thank you, "Merlin replied sarcastically.  
The boy's guardian merely smiled. "Are you finished?"  
"I guess. All that's left is to ready the horse tomorrow morning."  
"Merlin?"  
"Yes, Gaius?"  
"Be careful."  
Merlin looked up at the old man in surprise. "I will be."  
"Promise me, Merlin." Gaius walked over to the boy and clapped a hand on his thin shoulder. "You have to promise me you won't go and be foolish."  
"I promise." The two were quiet for a moment. "I don't know what to say, "Merlin said softly, looking back at Gaius.  
"Nothing. Now you'd best go and say goodbye to Gwen. I'll have dinner ready for you when you return."  
"Ok." Merlin paused for moment. Then left the room, unaware that Gaius watched the young man's frame until it disappeared round the corner.  
The old man sighed.  
Merlin found Gwen on the roof, her favorite part of the castle. She was seated, reading a thick novel, her curly hair framing her beautiful face.  
"Gwen."  
The princess jumped up, but seeing it was Merlin, she let out a breathy laugh. "You startled me."  
"Sorry."  
Gwen cocked her head, narrowing her brown eyes. "What's wrong?"  
Merlin walked towards her, running his hand through his ink-black hair. "I'm leaving tomorrow to go see a dragon that's supposed to give me all my answers."  
Gwen smiled widely. "Isn't that great? You've been moaning about being cooped up here since the day you arrived."  
"I know…I'm just not sure whether I'm ready to know the answers yet. The moment is finally here, but I'm afraid the answers might not be all I ever dreamed of."  
"Oh, Merlin." Gwen leaned over and put her arms around him, squeezing his thin frame. Merlin rested his head in her neck, hands loosely around her waist, taking comfort in his friend's familiar warmth.  
"I don't know why I'm so scared. I'm not supposed to be. I wasn't before. But now that the time is nearing, I'm just…afraid."  
"That means your human, "Gwen whispered back, pulling back and ruffling up his hair, making him smile. "I'm going to miss you, magical farm boy."  
"I'm going to miss you, too, Princess."  
________________________________________  
Merlin woke up the next morning to Gaius's hand shaking him from his sleep. "Come on, Merlin, it's time to get up."  
The butterflies swarmed the warlock's stomach, and he quickly got dressed and ate breakfast quietly, unable to finish it because of the nerves. He walked back to his room and retrieved his bags, straightening his jacket and stepping down the stairs to find Gaius waiting for him in front of the door. The old man looked him up and down, and didn't say anything when he reached over and pulled the un-expecting young man into an embrace. Merlin returned it hesitantly. Gaius let him go and looked him over one last time, reaching up and fixing the boy's black hair.  
"Off you go."  
Merlin nodded and walked out the door, only to turn back and say one last thing to his guardian. "Thank you, for everything, Gaius."  
Gaius merely shooed him out the door, but the wrinkled face was turned upwards in a small smile, and he watched Merlin as he left. He turned back to find the large room far emptier.  
As for the warlock, he had made his way quietly to the stables, where he readied his favorite horse, strapping on his old leather saddle over its dark brown coat. He attached the bag to the side and mounted, trotting the horse out the stable, turning back one last time to look back at the castle. Catching sight of Gwen watching him out of one of the windows, he waved to her and gave her a smile before gently pushing his horse forward, out of the palace grounds, out of the markets, homes, and out of the city's wooden gates.  
He pulled out the map and headed towards Locksley Forest, breathing in the clear air. A small smile made its way to his face and Merlin began to enjoy himself as he galloped across the wide open fields, the wind rustling his clothes, the sun warming his skin. Finally, he was feeling the freedom he had so longed for.  
The forest was dark and ominous when he approached it, and the sun was setting on the first day of his journey. He followed the path that was sketched in on the map into the dark canopy, and moved a slight ways away from it to make camp for the night.  
"Forbearnen."  
He smiled and leaned back, eating the first of his food. Keeping the fire lit to stay any interested predators, he wrapped himself in his thick blanket and was quickly asleep-having not noticed how tired he was until his body was stretched out on the soft forest foliage.  
The first rays of the morning sun woke him up the next morning, and he was fast to repack his things and be on his way, following the large path into the forest. However, the map soon led him off the well-worn path into much thinner roads decorated with obstacles for which he had to dismount and guide his horse around. As the sun set on his second day, Merlin began to grow uneasy. He had seen no traveling through the forest, and the unnatural silence of Locksley wood was beginning to put him ill at ease. Even the horse was fidgeting when he settled down to sleep, and that night he was plagued with nightmares of burning castles, screaming children, and a beautiful dark-haired lady, whose eyes were a stunning jade.  
When he woke the next morning, it wasn't because of the sun. It was because of a strong wind that sent his blanket flying away. Merlin was immediately awake, and just as he jumped to his feet, another strong gust of wind hit him against a tree. His horse whinnied and pranced in fear, struggling to pull itself free of the rope Merlin had tied tightly to a branch. Struggling against the powerful gusts, the warlock made his way to his horse, but just as he reached it, the wind disappeared. He looked around in surprise, preparing himself for another painful collision with a tree.  
But it never came.  
The peculiarities didn't end there. As he looked around, he blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing.  
His blanket was where he had slept, undisturbed by any wind.  
"What...?"  
His horse nickered softly, and when he glanced at it, he realized that it was calm, peacefully eating some of the rich green grass peeking out from between the roots of the towering trees.  
Merlin shook his head and attempted to sit back down. He was still exhausted. However, he was too shaken to rest, and so ate a quick breakfast of dried fruits and leapt back on his horse, on his way again.  
Sadly, it didn't take long for Merlin's ill ease to return, and the hairs on the back of his pale neck stood on end as he felt the horrid feeling that he was being watched. But no matter how much he twisted and turned, he could see no one or nothing amid the endless branches. A small breeze picked up and ruffled his hair, and he stopped the horse and turned back as quick as he could, but there was no one there.  
There shouldn't be wind so deep in a forest.  
"Cume poden," he muttered under his breath, and watched as the breeze he conjured disappeared down the path.  
Nothing.  
Well, what were you expecting?He thought to himself, but just as he turned, a great gust of wind hit him square in the chest. The horse screamed and Merlin flew off its back. In a thunder of hooves, the beast charged off down the path and was swiftly consumed by the thick ranks of looming trees.  
"WAIT! STOP!" the warlock yelled after it, struggling to get to his feet, but the horse had disappeared, and with it, all of his provisions. Looking down at the map in his hand, Merlin squared his shoulders and turned to look at where the wind had come from. But instead of feeling fear, his lips turned upwards in a small.  
There's something out there, and next time it tries something like that, I'll be ready.  
Merlin turned back to the map and continued his trip, though, very soon, his feet began to mourn the loss of the horse. When he had had enough—his level of exhaustion told him the time of day, because the forest was always dim, never dark, never light—Merlin climbed a tree and attempted to get comfortable in the fork of two thick branches.  
"Leot, " hemurmured and let a small light loose, allowing it to act as a kind of guard while he slept. The light would go out when it encountered foreign magic, and so with that slight comfort, the boy fell into another fitful night's sleep.  
________________________________________  
"You don't have to do this."  
"I do."  
"Please, after everything we've been through together."  
"It means nothing anymore. You made that quite clear."  
"You betrayed me. You had me tortured and locked in a dungeon."  
"If you hate me so much, then, why are you here?"  
"Because I still love you. "  
"But I don't love you."  
"You're lying."  
"ENOUGH. The time for useless words is over."  
"What? You'd prefer me to try and kill you?"  
"Oh no, you won't kill me, but that doesn't mean I won't kill you."  
"Don't do this. Don't make me do this."  
"Good bye."  
"NO" Merlin shouted as he jolted upright, sweat running down his brow. It was a dream, just a dream. But it had felt so real. He ran his hand through his wet hair, slowing his breaths. Looking around, he caught sight of his little light floating around him, but other than that, the forest was a chilling quiet. Merlin groaned softly when he stretched, his back aching from the night/day in the tree. He jumped down and gripped the map tightly, well aware that he was not even half way through the journey and he had no food. Tightening his belt, Merlin set off again, nerves on end, eyes peeled.  
The day passed without incident, and when he settled down to sleep again, his dreams were again plagued by great battlefields and cries of sorrow—that and the lady whose presence was beginning to frighten him. Who is she? Merlin thought when he woke. A figment of your imagination, he replied to himself, and he shook the image of her raven hair and ruby lips from his mind. Merlin looked down at the map, happy to find that this would probably be his last day in this god-forsaken forest. With that joyful thought, and a belly barely sated by a few berries he had found the day before, the warlock set out again.  
His boots crunched against the leaves on the floor, and the occasional twig snapped under his feet as he ducked below branches to reach the edge of the wood. Merlin was just beginning to catch sight of a few rays of sunlight through the canopy when suddenly; he heard an echoing crack, the whip-lash of a rope snapping the air. He gasped as he was abruptly jerked into the air by his ankle, a trap that hoisted him frightfully high above the ground His map fluttered down to the earth uselessly.  
"Damn, " he groaned softly, and struggled in his bonds. Spells, Spells, SPELLS.Closing his eyes, he shifted through all the incantations that could get him out of this mess.  
"Your spells won't work on that rope, sorcerer. They'll only strengthen its hold on you. Clever thing, isn't it?"  
Merlin's head ached as he turned his head to the sound of the voice .There stood a heavy-set man with graying and balding brown hair, a belt littered with daggers of all sizes, and a whip that was stained with what the warlock thought was blood.  
"The name is Galic."  
"Merlin, "the boy replied. "Sorry, you seem to know lots about this rope. Is this your trap?"  
"Of course."  
The warlock was quiet for a moment, waiting for the man to elaborate. Noticing that Galicwas planning on doing no such thing, Merlin continued with a raised eyebrow. "Might you get me out of it? I really must be on my way—"  
"And where would a sorcerer like you be needing to go to?"  
"I'm on an errand for the King."  
"Ooooo. Think you're high and mighty, boy?"  
"No, I just—"  
"Because I don't like sorcerers who think they're all high and mighty. Means they're up to no good."  
"I'm just—"  
"Quiet boy," Galic snapped, pulling out a chain from his dark leather jacket. He walked towards the bound warlock, reaching towards Merlin's dangling hands.  
"I really don't suggest you touch me," Merlin said as Galic approached him.  
"Is that so?" The man narrowed his eyes at the boy, but his face split into a smile. "See, that's what they all say." With that, Galic lifted his hand and hit Merlin in the head with the chains, and everything went black.  
________________________________________  
Merlin woke to a bitter taste in his mouth and a throbbing head. He attempted to lift his hands, but all he did was tug on the chains that bound him tightly to the sides of a cage.  
"Tospringe," he murmured, throat dry. No reaction. "Tospringe!" Still no good. Merlin groaned quietly and leaned his head back against the cold bars as he attempted to get an idea of where he was at. The warlock was seated inside a cage, arms pulled tightly to either end, restraining him completely. His ankles, too, were bound by rusting chains, to the bottom of his cage. A piece of rough fabric was tied tightly around his head. His skin itched where dried blood had caked it; his shirt was covered with it, as well.  
Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to piece together what had happened, but his head still swam. However, it didn't take long for his thoughts to be rudely awakened by a bucket of icy cold water.  
"Good morning, Sunshine. How you feeling?" came the rough voice as Merlin spluttered, his head splitting in pain as his senses were wakened.  
"Never better, "the warlock replied, his response making his keeper laugh.  
"Got some spirit in you, eh? Won't last long here, " Galic said with a smile. Merlin looked around, his heart sinking in his chest when he saw his whereabouts.  
Everything was gray or black, the only color being the red of the fires and crimson blood that seemed to cling to every surface. Workers in rags and chains were hitting the rocks about them with heavy pickaxes, cruel-eyed men and cold tall mountains their only audience. The sky was dark, and smoke curled up to the heavens, the thickness of it making it difficult to breathe.  
"Welcome to The Mine, "Galic said with another laugh. "Time for the tour."  
The man opened the cage door and unlocked Merlin's chains with an old worn key. But his freedom didn't last long, because soon Galic threw him out the door and chained the warlock's hands behind his back. Feet bound together, and Merlin stumbled forward, the chains heavy on his body.  
"Walk, boy," Galic growled, and he half dragged, half shoved Merlin to a gargantuan cavern burrowing into a mountain face. Bonfires glowed in every corner, and seated at the end of the cave was a fat man with a long scar across his left eye and a vicious looking dagger in his pudgy hand.  
"Ahh, Galic. I was wondering when you'd be coming. What do we have here?" He picked his filthy nails with the tip of the blade casually, regarding Merlin with a mild interest.  
"A sorcerer, my Lord." Galic pushed Merlin to his knees in front of the fat man. "Found him at the edge of the wood. Said he was on an errand for the King, and he was carrying this." Merlin's heart plummeted as Galic handed his Lord Merlin's map. The fat man took it in his pudgy fingers, looking at its surface.  
"What's this?" The fat man's eyes narrowed. "I don't see nothing."  
Merlin looked questioningly at him, and as he craned his head to look at his map, he saw that there wasn't a mark on the yellowed sheet at all. In fact, it was completely blank.  
The fat man looked down at the bound warlock, his dark eyes searching Merlin's pale face. "What is this, boy? An enchanted parchment?"  
"No. It's just a blank sheet of paper I carry around for sketching new plants I come across. See, I'm part of the King's court. I was sent to Lancaster Wood to document any new plants I could find," Merlin lied, stuttering convincingly.  
"Said you was on an errand for the King, so if so, where are your supplies, boy? And ain't you too young to be part of the King's court?"  
"I'm an apprentice," Merlin replied. "As for my supplies—well, I lost them. Fell off my horse when I was riding and off it went with all my things. I'd been wandering around for days when I was caught in your man's trap."  
"Is that so? Galic said he saw you use magic."  
"I can do a bit; my mum taught me a few spells."  
"Did she now?" The fat man smiled wickedly, reaching out his dirty hands to stroke Merlin's pale face, and when he reached the boy's head wound, he pressed on it, drawing a gasp of pain from the warlock. "Well, she ain't here now, boy."  
He withdrew his hand and wiped it on his dirty leather shirt. "From here on out, you answer to me. You will call me my Lord. Don't try to run-your chains are bewitched so that you can't use magic on them. If you do somehow manage to get out of your chains, we'll kill you before you move two feet. Understood?"  
"But the King will be expecting me—"  
"No one sends search parties out here. Know where we are? We're in the Dark Mountains. No one will find you even if they tried." The fat man turned to Galic. "Take him down into the Mine, starve him of the sun a bit. Tell Olaf to get him to work."  
"My lord." Galic leaned in, attempting to whisper, however failing miserably because Merlin could here every word that left his thin lips. "The boy, in the forest, he threatened me. Said I'd regret touching him, and he looked dangerous, my Lord. I don't believe he's just a herb hugger." (The lilly livered coward.)  
"Look at him, Galic-barely a scrap of meat on him. He's a stuttering fool, and even if he is more powerful than he makes himself out to be, he'll lose that power after just a week of work. Now, man up. He's just a boy. See." The man stood up and kicked Merlin in the face. "Nothing to be afraid of. Now go do what you're told."  
The warlock's head hung low as he recovered from the blow, his nose dripping blood. Galic, emboldened by his master's move, lifted Merlin by the scruff his neck and dragged him out of the cavern. The warlock struggled to catch his feet on the gray gravel, and just as he managed to walk, he was thrown down a flight of stairs into a dark cavern. Merlin coughed up blood at the bottom of the steps, the warm liquid filling his mouth from what he supposed was a broken tooth and a bitten tongue, his whole body on fire.  
"On your feet, boy," Galic said happily, kicking the warlock in the abdomen. Blood dribbled from his lip as Merlin used the wall to help himself up. The heavy-set man shoved Merlin forward down the tunnel, past tens of workers slaving on at the sides. When finally Merlin felt like he was going to collapse, Galic kicked the back of his knees, and the warlock fell face first on the hard floor. He coughed up pebbles, dust, and blood, his head swimming.  
"Olaf, here's a new worker for ya. He's a bitch, so work him hard."  
"You know me, Galic, I don't know how to do it any other way."  
The men above the warlock laughed, and Galic's retreating footsteps left Merlin alone with another hellish captor. He didn't have time to lift himself up off the ground before Olaf put a heavy boot on Merlin's neck. Groaning in pain as the man pressed hard on him, his sharp boot cutting the boy's pale skin. He then proceeded to lean down and whisper in the boy's ear, his breath warm and rancid on Merlin's face.  
"There are 3 rules, boy. 1. Work. 2. Follow orders. 3. Don't try to get away. It's simple enough. Follow those rules, and we won't hurt you—too bad." The man lifted his boot off of Merlin's neck and lifted him roughly off the ground, taking a good look at him. Olaf was a big man, how much of it was muscle and how much of it was fat, Merlin couldn't tell. He was dressed in a long leather apron, just like a butcher, and like a butcher's, his apron was covered with—you guessed it my brilliant reader-blood. "There are 24 hours a day. You sleep 3 of them, you work 20 of them, you rest 1 of them. Clear?"  
"As crystal," Merlin coughed, throat sore.  
"Good. You start work tomorrow; you'll be working with five other men. They'll be your family. Where they go, you go. What they do, you do. For the five of you, there will be two guards. Since Galic doesn't like you, and one of my men died yesterday, you'll be joining my family." Olaf put his arm around Merlin's thin shoulders, guiding him down another flight of stairs and through another hallway to a large room. Taking a good look at it, Merlin realized it must be where they put the prisoners. The floor was covered in grates, walkways separating one from another. Olaf led the warlock to one such grate, pulled it open, and tossed the boy in without so much as a glance as to who might be below.  
"Nighty night. See you bright and early tomorrow," the jailer said with mock sweetness, his wide face splitting to reveal a wide variety of yellowed and broken teeth. And with that wretched smile, Olaf pulled the grate closed and locked it with a loud and resonating, leaving Merlin broken and exhausted in the dark, with absolutely no strength to face what might be down there with him.  
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Chapter 4: The Mine  
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"Look at him. He's just a boy. Won't survive two days. Why waste our supplies on him?"  
"Because he's a prisoner here just the same, and he needs help."  
"We all need help."  
"Would you have wanted me to deny you the aid I gave you when you first arrived?"  
The voices continued arguing over Merlin's head as he groggily woke up—he didn't even remember passing out. He groaned in pain as the reality of his situation kicked in, and more parts of him ached than he even knew could. For example, Merlin never thought you could have a sore eyebrow, but there he lay, every hair in his thick brow throbbing.  
"He's awake."  
"No shit, Gandalf."  
"Lad, can you hear me?" Merlin nodded his head slightly in response to the worried voice next to him. "I need you to open your eyes," the man continued, and the warlock replied by opening his swollen lids, blue eyes blinking furiously in the dark. After a few moments getting used to the black, Merlin could make out the figures of two men leaning over him.  
"There you go, laddie, "another gravelly voice whispered in the darkness, and Merlin turned to see another figure kneeling next to him.  
"Where am I?" he choked, throat impossibly dry.  
"You're in The Mine. What's your name?"  
"Merlin."  
"Well, Merlin, welcome to the closest thing to hell you'll find in this world."  
A shiver crawled up Merlin's spine as he remembered all that had happened, and as he attempted to get up, a warm hand helped him so that he was seated looking at the figures of five men. The pain overwhelmed him for a moment, and when the spots cleared from his vision, he looked around at his prison. It was a small hole deep in the ground, moist soil beneath him and hard stone making up the cold walls. And that was another detail that made the prison only more distressing—it was so cold. Freezing, bitter, wet, cold, cold, cold. Merlin wrapped his thin arms around himself as he watched his breath—the only thing he could see clearly—rise from his chapped lips and up to the small squares of light far above, up to freedom.  
"I know, it's a lot to take in." Merlin looked back at the dark figures, strangely frustrated that he couldn't make out any details. It was too dark to differentiate one person from another. But the voice continued, ignorant of the warlock's raving thoughts. "We can't introduce ourselves here, but when we get to work, you'll soon get to know us very well. Now, you have maybe an hour before we have to work. I suggest you sleep; it's going to be a long day tomorrow."  
"…Alright. Umm…thank you," Merlin said softly, unsure of his cracking voice.  
"I did very little, because there is little I can do. Now rest, everyone."  
After a few murmurs and groans, Merlin watched as the figures flattened out, and soon an arm tugged him closer so that he was sandwiched in the warmth of two people. Before he knew it, Merlin was fast asleep, mind still swimming with all that had happened.  
________________________________________  
"Up and at 'em boys. There are rocks to break and jewels to mine."  
The hard voice followed a bucket of icy cold water that came down on the sleeping men. Merlin jerked up, regretting it soon after as his body protested. A man leaned in and whispered in Merlin's ear.  
"Olaf is going to throw down some ropes. You climb them to get to the top. Speak only when instructed to, and do whatever they ask you."  
Merlin didn't have time to thank the man before a thick rope was dropped to him, and the boy hurriedly climbed it, ignoring his groaning muscles. He scrambled to the top, and a large hand pulled him by the scruff of the neck over the edge. His ankles were still chained, but his captor unlocked the tight lengths that had bound the boy's hands all night.  
Blinking in the sudden light, Merlin adjusted as best he could to his surroundings. Men all around were being pulled from their cells and given small husks of moldy bread, one of which Merlin scarfed down quickly. His stomach happy for any kind of nourishment it could get. Torches lined the walls, and Merlin soon found himself being pushed by a man with gray hair and deep wrinkles. The man led him down a few tunnels and to a dead end, handing him a pickaxe without so much as a word when they stopped. Gray Hair then proceeded to hit the wall in front of him, and three others filed in past the boy, using their own pickaxes to toil.  
"Work," a man with black hair murmured to him, not looking at the boy. Merlin nodded and lifted the axe, testing its weight and finding it heavier than he would have liked, but despite it, he lifted it over his shoulder and hit the stone in front of him. The impact jarred his shoulder. Merlin grit his teeth and did it again, and again, and again. Suddenly the warlock was working, not looking back as he pounded at the rock before him with four other men, dust and stones flying at him.  
When he had gotten the hang of it, Merlin risked a look behind him. Olaf stood, leaning against a wall; whip in one hand, drumstick of rich red meat in another. Another man stood in a similar manner, both men more interested in the food than at the men slaving before them. Shifting his gaze away, Merlin looked curiously at the men in his so called "family". The gray-haired man worked at his right, and even farther right was a superbly, to put it delicately—large, and to put it indelicately—fat, man with the frighteningly red hair. To Merlin's left worked the black haired men, hair cropped short, his arms bare, and muscles rippling. Working at the end was a man with such blonde hair it might as well be white, and his scrawniness competed with Merlin's own thin figure.  
"Hey, newbie, get to work or you'll find yourself whipped," a gruff voice said from behind him, and Merlin turned quickly to see the other guard—bald—walking towards him menacingly.  
"Sorry, Sir." Merlin stuttered, and then went back to work, focusing his thoughts only on the rock before him. However, it didn't take long for his arms to weaken and turn to jelly, his shoulders to burn, and suddenly the axe was the weight of the world, and the stone as hard as steel. Sweat poured down Merlin's pale features, and the heat from the torches combined with the heat and body odor of the other workers made for such a stuffy and hot atmosphere that Merlin found himself missing the terrible cold of the cells. But he didn't stop, he knew—even with that being his first day—that the guards would have no qualms with whipping him should even pause to catch his breath. However, the fear did not stop his muscles from groaning, and his breath from quickening with the relentless, mind-numbing work. And just when Merlin felt he would soon collapse, the guards called the work to a stop.  
The warlock let the pickaxe fall hesitantly to the ground, and he followed suit when he saw his companions do the same. Merlin groaned quietly as he hit the floor, wiping the sticky sweat from his brow. A hand clapped on his shoulder, and Merlin turned to see the black-haired man nod appreciatively at him.  
"Good work, laddie, good work for your first day. My name is Aeneas."  
"Than…thanks," Merlin stuttered, his voice failing him after being unused in so long.  
The man nodded, and then proceeded to point out their companions. "White hair over there, he's Paris. We call the old man here Doc 'cause he's the oldest and has been here longest, pudgy over there is Bofur."  
"I thought I saw five men in the cell last night."  
"Oh, that was probably Bofur's magnificent silhouette."  
"Oh, okay."  
The two men fell into an awkward silence, Merlin picking the scabs that littered his arms. But before he could get comfortable, Olaf called them to work again, and Merlin rose to his feet—swaying slightly. Aeneas steadied him and handed Merlin his pickaxe. "Come on, laddie. Round two and then we'll have lunch." Merlin thanked him, but he didn't get to work, his attention instead focused on Paris.  
The man hadn't gotten up.  
Next to him, Aeneas bent down and shook Paris's shoulder. "Come on, Paris, time to work," the man whispered, his voice becoming frantic. But the scrawny man only moaned, eyes fluttering and closing again. Then Aeneas did something that surprised Merlin.  
He left Paris alone.  
The black-haired man noticed Merlin's gaze. "There's nothing we can do. Get to work." Merlin's horror grew as Aeneas picked up his own axe and proceeded to work without so much as another glance at the man lying sickly on the ground next to him. The others set to work as well, and with another glance at Paris, Merlin began to pound on the wall with his pickaxe, too. But his attention was soon on Olaf, who was walking towards the blonde-haired figure, whip lifted menacingly.  
When the blow fell, Merlin shivered, his axe staying as his attention was consumed at the man on the floor who, despite the hard blow, remained there. Aeneas cast him a warning look, and Merlin remembered himself, getting back to work and ignoring the cries of pain that grew steadily louder to his left with every smack of iron casted whip length. He instead focused on the rock, focused on the consistency of his axe hitting the stone, focused on the sound of the axe ringing on the hard wall. But it did nothing to drown the screams when Olaf replaced the whip with a pick axe.  
After Olaf threw the men—now four—into the cell that evening, Merlin didn't even bother straightening himself from where he lay. He hadn't eaten lunch, and the long day had exhausted his thoughts from him. But soon, he lifted himself from the ground and walked towards the bucket that the men used for waste, and promptly vomited in it.  
Aeneas's hand settled on his back, rubbing comforting circles into the boy's skin as tears mingled with the vomit as the warlock collapsed—his emotions getting the best of him.  
"I'm sorry you had to see something like that the first day," Doc said from behind him. "But you'd best get used to it."  
Merlin wiped his mouth with his torn sleeve, turning to the old man with growing anger. "How could you just leave him like that? You left him to die."  
"Boy, everyone dies here. Had we lifted a finger, you'd find yourself being thrown to the crows as well. We help each other as best we can, but when a man doesn't get up, that's his funeral—you mustn't let it be yours as well," Bofur replied sharply.  
Merlin lifted his head in an attempt to stop the tears, his breath ragged. Then the Doc crawled towards him and wrapped the young warlock in a tight embrace. In the man's old arms, Merlin pictured himself in Gaius's, and his tears overflowed again as he thought of the old physician's familiar smell. Thinking of Gaius, he thought of home, of the quarters that always smelled like herbs, of the rays of the sun shining through the window. And with thoughts of home brought thoughts of Gwen, of her warm smile and her scent—flowers and vanilla. He missed being in her arms, the way her curly hair tickled his nose as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. He missed them all, god damn it, he even missed Surevres.  
"You've seen too little winters to be down here, boy, but you must be strong,"the old man whispered into Merlin's matted hair.  
Merlin pulled himself away from Doc's embrace, wiping away his tears and righting himself. And for a second, Doc could have sworn he saw a flare of gold in those young eyes, but he dismissed it. Straightening his back, Merlin played with his hands—already blistered and bloody from a single day—cracking his knuckles in silence before turning to the older men around him, painfully aware how much younger he was than them. "So, how do we get out of here?"  
"Excuse me?" Aeneas asked in surprise.  
"How do we get of here?" Merlin repeated. "There has to be some way out."  
"There isn't. Everything has already been tried." Bofur's eyes narrowed. "Don't even think of doing anything, boy. You'll bring us down with you."  
"So you'd prefer to remain here until all your energy is spent, where the only door to freedom is death?"  
"Yes, and I prefer to live as long as I can—"  
"-As a rat in the dark? To die as nothing more than a slave whose life is worthless, forgotten by any who once loved you?"  
"What do you want us to do?" Doc said, gaze locked on Merlin. "We are powerless in these chains, and the guards are around us at all times."  
"Is there any time of day when the chains come off?"  
"Yes—when you're dead," Bofur replied. "Now enough talk of escape. We have only a few hours to sleep before we have to get back to work and thank you very much, but I'd prefer not to sleep on the job."  
Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but shut up when all three men threw him a look. The boy sighed and curled up, the sweat soon freezing on his brow as the cold overtook him again, the only warmth he had that of the men sleeping next to him. And with the image Paris's beaten body haunting his closed eyes, Merlin fell to sleep again.  
She was brushing her long dark hair, deep emerald dress hugging her curves as she sat in front of a large mirror. He couldn't see her face, but Merlin felt warmth inside as he approached her. He put a hand on her shoulder, but when he leaned in to kiss her, he found that her face was Paris's—eyeball oozing from its socket, half of the face crushed in, blood everywhere.  
"See what you've done to me, "she whispered with her honey-sweet voice, hand suddenly bloody and reaching towards him-  
Merlin jerked awake, covered in a cold sweat, heart racing. He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the terrifying images that whispered in his dreams. He looked around him, turning to find the three men around him fast asleep—blissfully unaware of the warlock's nightmare. Merlin settled down quietly, but was wide awake, and remained so until the bucket of water woke the others to another day of hell.  
A week passed before anything eventful happened—or at least, that's what Merlin thought. The long hours had come to blur together, every minute hell, every second torture. Mind numbing work and little sleep had left the warlock with so little energy that he couldn't even think of escape. But still a little voice inside him whispered rebellion, and his heart grew angrier with every passing moment.  
It was the break after lunch when everything changed. Merlin was stretched on the floor, silent, as were his companions—no one had energy by this time of the day, and small chatter was a waste of breath.  
"To work, men," Olaf called out, and Merlin lifted himself onto his feet, turning to work again when he found that Doc hadn't risen.  
"Come on, Doc, it's time." Merlin shook the old man, who groaned at the boy's touch. "You have to get up." His heart sunk as the man didn't respond. "Come on,Doc," he said again. Don't do this to me.  
Aeneas wrenched Merlin away, eyes locking with his in warning. "There is nothing we can do," he mouthed and went to work, but Merlin could see the tears in his eyes.  
After all, you can't help but come to care for the people you're enslaved with.  
Bofur, too, looked tortured as he glanced at the old man on the ground, but his many days spent in the endless dark had hardened his heart and he went back to work. Merlin tore his eyes away from his friend and went back to it, his heart heavier than the pick axe that he held in his torn hands.  
When Olaf hit the old man, Merlin jerked at Doc's groan. Again. And again. Then Merlin did something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid—he listened to the whisper of rebellion that dwelled deep in his chest.  
"Stop!" the warlock cried and he dropped the pick axe, shielding Doc from another blow. "Please, he just needs some rest."  
"Does he, now?" Olaf said, unable to hide his shock.  
"Yes, please, Sir, just give him the rest of the day. I beg of you. "  
"Oh, I'd be happy, too." The thick man leaned towards Merlin, but the boy only straightened his back and swallowed his fear. "I'll give him the rest of the day, but I'm afraid that my whip isn't sated—"  
"—Then I'll take his place." Merlin blurted out, ignoring Aeneas's looks.  
This shocked Olaf further, and perhaps it was his shock that kept Merlin alive. "Fine. I'll put the old man back in the cells, then it'll be your turn. Follow me."  
Olaf pulled Doc to his feet, and Merlin shot his friends one last look, doing his best to look unafraid as he followed the heavy set man. The warden threw Doc into their cell, and as Merlin continued to follow Olaf, he could hear the old man's protests from deep within the hole. But Merlin ignored him and followed Olaf deeper into the monstrous caverns.  
He led the boy deeper than he had ever been in the Mine, but sooner than Merlin would have liked, the large man took Merlin through a set of large doors.  
"Welcome to the Punishment Chamber." Olaf informed him cheerily. "I'm sure you'll be dying to see this place more often."  
If anyone were to ask Merlin to describe that space, the first thing he would describe would be the awful stench. The room reeked of blood, vomit, and filth. Screams wracked the air, and in every corner there was a man whose blood fell to the floor, mingling with the blood of countless others before him.  
There was a man stretched on a table, pulled beyond his body's capability, men looming over him, cutting him open.  
There was a man lying naked on the floor, body covered in blood, torn clothes covering the floor as a man above him refastened his trousers.  
There was a man screaming as poison was dripped into his eyes.  
And there were many others, but Merlin's attention was focused away from them and onto himself as Olaf called over two large guards that stood chatting in the corner. They led the warlock to a tall wooden beam, roughly shoving him against it, his arms pulled hard to the other side so that his chest felt like it was about to split open. One of them tore open the back of his shirt, and Merlin suddenly felt a gloved hand stroking his spine.  
"I'd forgotten you were a bare-back. I'm going to enjoy this," Olaf whispered softly in his ear, humid breath making the hairs at the back of his neck rise.  
Merlin readied himself, but no amount of preparation could ready him from the pain that that first blow wrought. He let out an unwarranted cry as the iron-tipped length licked down his bare skin, and like fire, it seemed to set his body aflame. Then came a second, and a third, and a fourth-and soon the pain kept Merlin from counting.  
But the warlock wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing his screams, and he bit his lip to keep himself from doing so. Soon blood dribbled down his face, and spots began to appear in his vision. The world became dulled, and he saw black. But every time the whip sliced his skin, he was pulled roughly into red reality, for a moment the blast of pain making everything terribly sharp. The crimson of the blood on the wood before his eyes, the pain of the splinters breaking into his arms and chest, the feel of something warm dripping down his back and onto his legs and chest. The taste of something metallic, harsh, and bitter in his mouth. Every last blow was worse than the next, and it didn't take long for his resolve to die within him, and his throat was soon raw with the screams they pulled from his thin body.  
When the lashes finally ended, Merlin began to dip in and out of awareness. He was dragged to the cells, and there he was thrown roughly down into the cold hole. The boy screamed again as he landed on his back, the pain ripped away his consciousness, and he finally fell into the bliss of darkness.  
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Chapter 5: Rebellion  
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Merlin woke to extraordinary pain. His back burned a thousand fires, and his throat ached. It took a few moments to take a hold of his bearings, to remind himself that he was far from his bed back home.  
"Merlin," a voice whispered. The warlock groaned in response and he heard a relieved laugh.  
"You're the stupidest boy I've ever met," Aeneas said, but Merlin could hear the fondness in his tone.  
"Thank you," Merlin replied, his voice hoarse and weak, eyes still closed.  
"Can you get up?"  
"Probably not."  
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice. You've slept all night, and Olaf will be here soon to get us to work."  
Merlin moaned at his words, but began the painstaking process of getting up from his position lying on his stomach. It took a while, but soon the warlock was seated, his friend's muscled arm keeping him from falling over. The pain was overwhelming, and the young boy nearly passed out, but when the spots finally cleared from his blurred vision, he felt himself being pulled into a warm embrace.  
"You shouldn't have done that, but I can't thank you enough for doing it," Doc whispered in the boy's ear.  
"Just don't make me do it again." Merlin gave him a sheepish smile.  
"I'll do my best," the old man replied softly.  
The two looked at each other for a moment; however, they were soon interrupted by Bofur's deep voice.  
"Well, now that the tearful reunion is over, we have to get down to business."  
"What business?" Merlin looked at the fat man curiously.  
"We were talking and have decided to go with what you were saying a few days ago—we need to find a way out of this hell hole or we'll all be dead within the week. Anyway, you won't even last that long if that back isn't given proper treatment. We wrapped the wounds with what's left of your shirt, but you need medication fast to stop infection."  
Merlin nodded, looking down at himself to find his torso wrapped in his red tunic—or had it been blue? "What are we going to do?"  
"See, that's the problem. Getting out of here would be simple if we could use our magic for a second, but the wardens are good at ensuring that we are chained at all times. He knows just how destructive one of us could be," Aeneas said simply.  
"Do the chains vary in strength?"  
"What do you mean?"  
Merlin played with the shackles around his hands. "If there are chains where the spells on them are weakened, maybe our magic could break through them—if only for a second."  
"The oldest chains are in the torture chamber, the blood of sorcerers has weakened their power." Doc's voice was bitter, and Merlin didn't miss his glance at the boy's bandaged chest. "But the problem is that if you ever find yourself in those chains, it means that you are either being tortured or dying, so no one can focus on calling on magic or even remembering a spell to get free."  
"But some of us don't need spells…" Merlin murmured to himself.  
"Sorry?"  
"I need to get back into that chamber," the warlock said firmly, mind working fast.  
"Whoa, there, you can't go in there now, you're too weak. To go back in there so soon would kill you, and you're no use to us dead," Bofur replied.  
"It's the only chance we have; as you said, we don't have much time."  
"At least wait two days, just to get your strength back. Remember, even if you do get yourself free, you'll have to fight your way through The Mine—you can't do that if you are as weak as you are now." Aeneas clapped a hand on the warlock's shoulder. "Anyway, why should you go? One of us can—"  
"It should be me," Merlin interrupted. "I can use my magic without spells. They won't notice that I'm getting free until it's too late."  
"I've never heard of magic being done without spells…" Bofur said suspiciously.  
"Yeah, well, I'm a little different. You see—" Merlin was stopped by a wave of cold water that hit them all, leaving them spluttering in surprise. Nervousness gripped the warlock—how could he work in the state he was in? Aeneas seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and he climbed the rope right after the young man to ensure he kept going and didn't fall.  
Merlin reached the surface to Olaf's leering smile. "Not sure if I can allow this…" The butcher-like villain said, fingering the tightly bound fabric that wrapped the sorcerer's chest. He then pulled out a knife and cut Merlin's side, breaking through both mock bandage and skin. The warlock cried out in pain despite himself when Olaf ripped off the fabric, his back bleeding again as the guard tore open the scabs. Merlin doubled over and barely made it to their workspace, Aeneas's hand the only thing keeping him upright.  
The pain only got worse when Doc handed Merlin his pick axe, and with every lift of the tool, his back was torn further. Warm blood trickled down his skin and itched as it dried. But Merlin knew better than to stop, even going quicker when Olaf whipped him to work faster. The end of the day couldn't come fast enough, and that night, they whispered out a plan, Doc keeping his fear for Merlin a secret as he studied the warlock's worsening state. They kept like that for three days—long enough for Merlin to get used to his constant state of pain.  
The day finally came, and as they worked, Aeneas kept shooting the warlock looks, mouthing the same thing every time: "You don't have to do this." But Merlin ignored him and swallowed his pain and fear—he would get out of this hell hole, dead or alive. He couldn't—wouldn't stay another day without the sun.  
It was midway through the day when Merlin made his move. The boy collapsed to the floor, head lolling back in exhaustion. Olaf sauntered towards him, whip lifted menacingly.  
"Get to work."  
Merlin looked up at him with sharp eyes. "Hmm…not in the mood."  
"Excuse me?"  
"Are you deaf as well as stupid?"  
Olaf grit his teeth, grabbing the warlock by the neck, but before he could hurt the boy, Merlin swung the pick axe that was still tightly gripped in his hand, hitting it with all his might at the man. The tool landed with a sickening crack and Olaf screamed, letting go of the warlock to clutch his now bloodied face. The other guard smacked Merlin on the head—making the young man see stars—but he dared not do anything further before tending to his fallen companion. He rushed to Olaf's side, cursing as he saw the damage the axe had done. A whole half of Olaf's face was dented in, and bit of splintered skull stuck out here and there, one eye completely gone. However, miraculously—and much to the onlooker's dismay—the large man had avoided any mortal damage. The other guard called in help and they towed Olaf away as he still screamed bloody murder. They then turned their pea-sized brains to the slave who had done the damage, dragging him towards the torture chamber where they promptly knocked him senseless to await further trial.  
When Merlin awoke next, he was aware of an aching throb in his arms, and he looked up to see that he was chained to a horizontal bar attached to the ceiling, his torso covered in blood—how much of it was his own and how much of it was Olaf's, he couldn't tell. His attention turned to the chains that manacled his hands. He didn't have much time before the guards arrived with every intention of killing him (most probably slowly) because of what he had done to Olaf. The warlock closed his eyes and willed his magic to come to the surface.  
Nothing.  
He tried again and again, but still nothing. Merlin began to panic. If he couldn't get out of these chains, then they would surely kill him and the other members of his slave family, and that was one thing Merlin couldn't bear to think about. But his morbid thoughts were not long lived, because in came a group of five guards and (much to Merlin's delight) a very bandaged Olaf. At the moment, the aforementioned was seething with rage. The doctor had managed to dull his pain, but Olaf was adamant that he would see to Merlin's death himself before he was stitched up.  
"Not so brave are you now, boy? All chained up like a lamb to slaughter," he sneered.  
"What are you so angry about, Olaf? It's not like you had any looks that I could ruin in the first place—to be honest, I think I did you a favor. Having half of your face bludgeoned in must do well with the ladies—" Olaf stopped him with a hard smack that Merlin was sure had cracked some of his teeth.  
"I am going to kill you, you worthless rat, and I am going to do it slowly and painfully, and I am going to enjoy every minute of it."  
Olaf nodded to the other guards, who walked towards Merlin and began to beat him—some with sticks and some with gloved hands. When they had surely bruised and broken every bone in his body, they stopped and pulled back. Coughing up blood, the warlock struggled to keep himself conscious, but the pain muddled his thoughts. Olaf walked behind him, taking in the boy's torn back, and very carefully, the big man took a knife and began to slice open each of Merlin's whip wounds.  
The guards watching soon grew sick of the screams.  
Finishing his work on the final scar, Olaf gripped Merlin's face with his bloodied hands, showering the boy with his rancid breath.  
"Now let me tell you what's going to happen, boy. This is going to drag on for days, and do you know what's going to happen that day I plan to kill you? I'm going to call in each of your little friends and I'm going to make you watch as I tear off their limbs." Olaf laughed, but his mirth faltered when he thought he caught a flash of gold in those pain-dulled blue eyes.  
Merlin looked up at him and replied to his captor with calm, even words. "Threaten me, torture me, kill me, but lay a finger on my friends and I will rip you apart."  
"How?"  
"Like this."  
The guards in the room screamed in pain and they clutched their heads, blood running from every pore in their body as Merlin's magic forced it from their veins. Chains above the warlock cracked and Merlin fell to the floor where he unlocked the bonds on his ankles. Then the warlock straightened as Olaf backed away in shock and fear. "That's impossible. The chains, you can't—"  
"Now let me tell you what's really going to happen—I'm going to destroy your Mine, and I'm going to make you watch, and then I'm going to hand you over to the hundreds you've enslaved and I'm going to see what they do to you." Merlin said coldly, all the while his magic on overdrive—anger channeling his power. All around him, guards were flung to the stone walls and their captives' chains unlocked; soon Merlin wasn't the only one using magic.  
"Clear?" he said coolly. Then the warlock's eyes burned gold and he lifted his hand, sending Olaf flying towards the wall at the other end of the room. The sickening thud was followed by a short scream, and Merlin didn't look back as he stepped over Olaf's dying body.  
And they continued like that, their numbers growing, and no one could stand in their way. Merlin, comfortable that the slaves were well in control, ran to where Doc, Aeneas, and Bofur remained chained, shuddering in anticipation as the sounds of rebellion reached their eager ears.  
"Merlin!" Aeneas grinned elatedly as the warlock slid towards them, unlocking their chains with a glow of gold.  
"Come on!" The warlock pushed into the crowd of sorcerers rushing through the caverns, their bottled-up magic a force the guards had no chance against. Rage fueled the slaves as they fought their way towards the long missed sun, and the caves echoed the sounds of triumphant and dying screams.  
Merlin held up his hand as a guard rushed towards him with a long sword, and the attacker soon found himself at the other side of the room, bones cracked. Turning around, the warlock caught sight of Aeneas wrestling with a guard, and Doc walking slowly through seas of people, eyes burning a seemingly permanent gold. It's almost too easy…Merlin thought to himself as the guards raced towards the exits to escape the onslaught of sorcerers.  
"Light!" the people next to him cried and pointed to the end of the dark tunnel, and Merlin didn't hesitate to run alongside them as they fought their way to freedom, as they fought their way to the sun. When the light first hit him, it burned his eyes and skin, blinding him. But his pupils dilated and slowly accustomed to the brightness and Merlin laughed out loud. He had never loved the sun more than in that instant. Around him slaves cheered and smiled—both things they had long thought they couldn't do anymore. However, Merlin's heart grew heavier, and his unease grew with every passing moment. The guards were gathering at the foot of the trees, looking at the sorcerers in dismay. Why aren't they running?  
He didn't have to wait for an answer.  
"DRAGON!" someone screamed to his right, and Merlin turned to the sky where he saw a dark shape circling them. All around him, the once exuberant yells became screams of terror and the slaves retreated into the caverns from whence they had come.  
"Stand your ground!" Merlin turned to see Aeneas screaming beside him.  
"STAND YOUR GROUND!" the dark-haired man yelled, eyes glowing gold. Merlin took his lead and began to scream the same, and soon the slaves calmed and stood beside them.  
The sky darkened and Merlin's breath left his body as he caught sight of the creature that he had been sent from Glendale to meet—the great dragon and lord of the sky Kilgarrah. The dragon was gargantuan, even more than Merlin had thought, and the creature's scales rippled as it landed on the ground before them with an impact that shook the earth beneath their feet. Both sides were silent for a moment, and then the dragon opened his mouth and let out a wave of flame at the newly freed peoples.  
"Chistian," Merlin put his hand up, his shield blocking the fire—something that had never happened before. Kilgarrah stopped and the warlock followed suit. Then the dragon did what Merlin never would have expected—it laughed.  
"Well well well," it said in a deep voice, its chuckles shaking the ground, looking down at the bloodied and bare-chested warlock. "What do we have here? A sorcerer with enough power to challenge me. That's new."  
"I'm not here to challenge you," Merlin said, attempting to keep his voice from quavering, but the magic still rushed through him and gave him strength enough to speak to the awesome beast before him.  
"Then what are you here for?" the dragon asked, sounding rather amused.  
"I'm here with my comrades to escape imprisonment."  
"I can't allow you to do that," Kilgarrah said with a sigh.  
"Why not?"  
"Because half the jewels they mine go to me, and I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to part from that great gift."  
Merlin looked up at the dragon in shock, and admittedly, disappointment. "I'd heard that dragons were noble creatures that cared for the people. I never thought that such majestic beings were juvenile enough to fall under the spell of glittering gifts."  
"Our involvement and care for people has only lead to the near extinction of our race. We no longer care for the quarrels of man, so long as we reap the benefits."  
"So the power of the dragons is lost?" Merlin asked defiantly, rage making him bold.  
"How dare you! I could crush you in an instant!" the dragon roared, leaning in towards the warlock so that they were only inches apart. Merlin didn't flinch.  
"Then why don't you?"The young man challenged.  
Kilgarrah opened his mouth to reply, but instead narrowed his eyes and studied the seemingly insignificant being before him. "Who are you?"  
"I'm nobody."  
"Well, you sound like a somebody."  
"Were I a somebody, you would have known who I was."  
"Make no mistake, puny human, I know exactly who you are, so I know that you are a somebody traipsing as a nobody."  
"I am a nobody traipsing as a nobody."  
"In that, you are wrong, insolent mortal. No nobody would dare defy me."  
"Then I must be the first."  
Kilgarrah chuckled. "Yes, it seems that you are. Tell me, why should I let you and your friends go?"  
"I am here because of my search for you. I've come from the court of Leodogrance, sent by the three sorcerers who teach there. They told me to find you. I had expected that you would give me the answers I seek, but it seems I was wrong. You are not the all knowing, noble, powerful creature I had expected to meet. So perhaps you should let us go, to prove that you are the magnificent being I was sent to find, and not the cowardly lizard I've found."  
"I should kill you for your insolence."  
"Yet still you continue to entertain me."  
The dragon narrowed its golden eyes at Merlin, smoke curling from its great nostrils. "Yes. And though I would love to kill you, you are not fated to die at my hand. For that reason, I will leave, but heed my warning: should I see you again, I will not hesitate to break prophesy."  
Merlin looked in surprise as the dragon turned to leave, and in the silence, one could have heard a pin drop. However, just as the creature unfurled its great wings, it turned back to the small figure.  
"Before I go, I will give you one piece of information, for you'll need it in the coming months. Your coming here has set off a series of events that will bring into reality a prophesy-when the blood moon eclipses, you'll have to choose, and that choice will either destroy or save the seven kingdoms. Young warlock, you have powers that you know not of, but be warned, all magic comes at a price, and your sacrifice will be the greatest of them all. Be warned, Emrys, everything is about to change."  
________________________________________  
Chapter 6: The Homesick and the Scarlet Clad  
________________________________________  
"Why is it that whenever I wake up, you're always hovering above me?"  
Doc laughed as he looked down at the warlock. "So he lives. How are you feeling?"  
Merlin turned his muddled focus back on his back, but he couldn't feel anything. In fact, he couldn't even feel his toes, let alone move any part of his being. "I actually can't feel anything..."  
"Good, that's the way it's supposed to be. The druids have you drugged so that you can't feel the pain."  
"More like drugged me so I can't feel my nether regions—wait, did you say druids?"  
Chuckling, Doc leaned back in the chair next to Merlin's bed where the warlock lay on his stomach, bandaged from neck to waist. "You've been asleep for three days. All the magic you used drained what little energy you had left. In that time, some of the slaves who had once been druids led us to their camp, and here we've been resting and receiving treatment."  
Merlin gaped at him. "Three days!"  
"You were out like a rat hit with a frying pan."  
"Thank you for that lovely description. Now when can I move again?"  
"I can call in the druids now so that they can give you a remedy to reverse the numbing effects…but I have to warn you, Merlin, you're not going to like how you're feeling."  
"Anything's better than feeling like a rat hit with a frying pan."  
"Don't mock me."  
However, despite Merlin's firm belief that he couldn't feel worse than he did waking up in that bed, it didn't take a minute without the numbing tonic for Merlin to wish for it back. But he bit his lip and swallowed the pain, for aching all over allowed his thoughts to sharpen and his mind to clear enough to look at his surroundings and make sense of them. He lay in a tent, cushioned with pillows and covered with blankets, all the warlock could really make out were the thin rays of sunlight that peeked in from the opening. Soon after he was rid of the numbness, Merlin fell asleep again, and when he woke next he found himself alone.  
The pain had lessened enough for him to get up, and so he did, slowly clambering his way out the door, leaning heavily on a staff he had found at his bedside. Brushing away the coarse fabric of his new dwelling, Merlin soon found himself out in the sunlight. He allowed himself a minute to enjoy the sun's warm rays, lifting his head and breathing the fresh air that he had so missed in his stay in the caverns below the earth. Around him the druid camp was alive and bustling, littered with colors and peoples of all sorts. It was easy to recognize the miners—they all looked sickly and pale, but there was a joy and a life in their faces that had long been missing in their days of enslavement. Here he could hear laughter and loud conversations, filled with richly detailed stories of both terrible and wonderful adventures, and with those stories the miners paid back the druids for their kindness—even though the peaceful people needed no incentive to treat the needy.  
In other words, it was paradise for a young warlock who had missed just this, the company of people laughing as though they were all destined to live in mirth for the rest of their days. Even though it couldn't be true, Merlin allowed the moment to fill him up, allowed himself to forget the ominous words spoken by the dragon only mere days ago.  
"Merlin!" The young man turned to find himself enveloped in a warm embrace, Bofur's thick arms wrapped tightly around the warlock. At his wince, however, his companion pulled away with a quick apology, but the smile never left his face.  
"We thought you were going to die! Gave us a right scare, boy."  
"Sorry about that, I'll do my best not to repeat it," Merlin replied with a grin.  
"Well don't make a promise on it; you have a knack for getting into trouble."  
"I don't find trouble, it finds me."  
"Be that as it may, we might as well enjoy the time when you are apart from it. Hungry?"  
"Starving."  
"Then let's go have some supper." With that, Bofur wrapped an arm around the boy's thin shoulders and chatted with him fondly as they made their way to one of the many fires. There they met Aeneas and Doc, and the small family, bonded not by blood but by companionship, settled down and exchanged tales as they ate the best meal they had had in a very long time.  
Merlin couldn't have been happier.  
But even as he laughed alongside the others, Merlin couldn't shake the words of the dragon from his mind. That night, after the others had retired, the warlock left his tent after a short fitful sleep plagued with nightmares—they seemed now to be the only dreams the boy was capable of having. Relying heavily on his cane to walk, Merlin made his way through the silent camp to the boundary, nodding to the guards as he took a seat in the dark, hoping that the silence could drown out his loud thoughts.  
"You should rest. Your wounds won't heal if you don't."  
Merlin turned around, startled, his eyes meeting those of a tall gray-haired druid clad in a long orange robe. The man smiled at the warlock and took a seat next to him on a log nearby, continuing in a comfortingly warm voice. "What troubles you?"  
"When the dragon spoke to me, he said that I wasn't destined to die by his hand—that there was a prophesy in which I had to make a choice that would destroy or save the kingdoms, and he called me by a strange name-Emrys. I can't make head or tail of it…I just don't understand what it all means," Merlin confided, surprised as he said the words aloud to an utter stranger.  
"I can help you a little with that, Merlin. Emrys is the name by which we druids call you, and the name you are known by to creatures of the Old Religion."  
"But why should I even have a name? What makes me so special—"  
"You should know by now that you are no ordinary sorcerer, Emrys. You are a creature that hasn't been seen in a very long time, a warlock, a question that has never been posed. You are more akin to a dragon than you are to a human, for you both have been forged by the power of the Old Religion. As a warlock, you are a being of magic, and a powerful magic, too. There was a prophesy written in the days before days, it foretold a terrible time where magic was persecuted and driven from the land—"  
"The Great Purge…" Merlin murmured.  
"Yes. The prophesy said that when the magic of the world was most threatened, a man would be born with great power, and he would be the most powerful sorcerer to ever live. He, with the aid of the once and future King, would unite the lands of Albion, a time of prosperity and magic whose like will never be seen again. That man, Emrys, is you. And the King is none other than Arthur Pendragon."  
"The son of Uther Pendragon? The son of a man whose father led to the persecution of magic in the first place?"  
"Indeed."  
"You must be joking."  
"I'm afraid I'm not."  
"Me? The most powerful sorcerer to ever live? No. Whatever you want, whomever you've been waiting for, you've got the wrong person."  
"None of us choose our destinies, Emrys, and none of us can escape it."  
"Say if you're right, then what was the dragon talking about when he mentioned the blood moon eclipsing?"  
"That part of the prophesy has always been unclear. It is said that when the time of Albion is soon upon us, you will have to make a decision, and that decision will shape the fate of the seven kingdoms.  
Merlin let out a startled laugh, looking wide-eyed at the druid across from him, astonishment lining his pale features. "And when am I supposed to make this decision?"  
"In three years."  
"Three years! And nobody bothered to tell me until now?!"  
"It was said that you should be trained and protected, so that when the time comes for the eclipse, you will be well guided in your decision—"  
"What is this choice? What choice do I have to make?"  
"Nobody knows."  
"Well that's bloody helpful," Merlin snapped, but he quickly calmed down and sighed, breathing out heavily. "I'm sorry, it's just a lot to take in."  
"Of course, Emrys, it is a terrible burden, and I am sorry that it was I who had to tell you of it. Now, go rest, you've been through quite the ordeal."  
Merlin nodded. "Thank you."  
"It was my pleasure. Never forget, Emrys, you are not alone." The man gave the warlock a quick bow before rising, disappearing into the misty wood before Merlin had a chance to reply. The young man sighed again and looked up, the canopy just thin enough so that he could see the stars.  
That night when he slept, he dreamed of dragons and burning castles, and at the very edge of his mind, a lady in emerald silk, pale face pulled into a mysterious smile.  
Merlin spent a week in the druids camp, their magic and herbs slowly healing his torn back, and soon the pain had lessened enough for him to move freely and ride, if not with a little discomfort. However, the blissful calm of the druid camp only gave Merlin more time to think of home, and his heart ached for Glendale with each coming day. His mind was increasingly filled with thoughts of Gaius, of Gwen, of Edwin and Phillip, and he soon could think of nothing else but how they must be faring. Surely by now they thought him dead, and the idea sent shivers up his spine. He confided his musings with Doc, and the old man wrapped him in an embrace, helping the warlock ready himself for the long journey home.  
When the time finally came for Merlin to leave, the birds were singing in the sunlit branches of the trees, and the warlock was given a steed the color of smoke—a steed laden with plenty of supplies for his long journey home. Doc, Aeneas, and Bofur waited next to the horse, tightening the buckles and checking for the billionth time that the young man would have everything he needed to get home safely. They even supplied him with a beautiful sword, hand crafted by the druids, its blade etched with runes written in the old tongue. They told him it had been made in the days before the Purge, forged in dragon's breath. In the druid's tongue, it was named Excalibur.  
"My people will travel with you as far as the main road, but from there we cannot go further. Our people are viewed with suspicion in all the kingdoms, so you will be safer without us," the druid leader had informed him, giving him a quick blessing before Merlin was to set off.  
Finally, after what Merlin thought were far too many unnecessary preparations, it was time to say goodbye.  
"Take care of yourself, boy. Avoid trouble as best you can," Bofur said, squeezing the warlock with his great arms, but despite the fact that his back burned from the pressure, Merlin returned it with an equal amount of strength.  
Next, Doc gave him a small bunch of herbs wrapped in white cloth. "These will help with the pain. Be light handed with them though; you don't know how much you'll need in the days to come."  
"Thank you, Doc."  
"No, thank you, Merlin. I'd be dead if it weren't for you, and nothing I could possibly do can repay that debt."  
"You've already paid it in double, my friend." The warlock pulled the old man into a hug, surprised to find his eyes glazing over.  
Aeneas was last, and he stood at the edge, running his hands through his long dark hair. "I'm going to miss you, laddie. I'll be staying with the druids. If ever you need me, you'll find me with them."  
"Of course."  
The two looked at each other awkwardly, and as Merlin leaned in to embrace him, Aeneas brushed him away. "I'm certain we'll meet again, Merlin, so there is no need to say goodbye."  
They clasped forearms and Merlin smiled, mounted his horse, giving his friends a final farewell before leaving them behind- three druids leading him through the woods and towards home.  
The group traveled for four days and four nights, and on the morning of the fifth day, the druids bade him farewell, pointing him the direction home. He thanked them and was soon on his way, the pain in his back forgotten as the prospect of sleeping in a warm bed urged him on. As the miles vanished, the towns grew into cities and the number of people rose. While Merlin wore a high-necked shirt baggy enough to disguise his heavily bandaged torso and gloves to protect his blistered hands, the fading bruises on his face stood out on his pale skin. More than once he was given a curious stare, but he wasn't stopped.  
It was three days until Merlin saw Castle Leodogrance on the horizon, and despite the fact that he was near people, the warlock laughed aloud—ignorant of the fact that those walking nearby thought him mad. But the musings of farmers didn't quell Merlin's excitement, and he pushed his horse forward towards home.  
Nodding to the guards posted at the gate, Merlin rode through the familiar doors of the capitol of Glendale. He passed familiar buildings and streets, even recognizing a person or two. He ran into no one, though, when he entered the stable and secured his horse to a stall, brushing it down and giving it a bright red apple as a thank you. Butterflies buzzed in his stomach as he climbed the worn staircase to the physician's quarters, and he stopped for a moment before opening the familiar old wooden door.  
Upon entering, Merlin was greeted with a familiar sight. Gaius stood brewing a potion, back hunched over one of the many counters, and the warlock allowed himself a moment to watch his guardian before he interrupted the man's work.  
"Need help with that?"  
Gaius looked up in surprise, his wrinkled face widening in astonishment at the sight of the warlock.  
"Merlin!"  
"How are you doing, Gaius?"  
"All the better on seeing you!" The old man walked quickly over to the young man, embracing him tightly, and Merlin ignored the pain, allowing the physician's familiar arms to welcome him home. Gaius looked up at him in shock, hands brushing over Merlin's bruised face. "What happened to you? You've been gone for over a month."  
Wow, I must have been in The Mine longer than I had previously thought. "Let's just say I took a detour."  
"Sit, sit." Gaius pulled him over to the dining table, running over to a pot on the fire. "I was just making supper. Would you like some?"  
"Of course, thank you, Gaius."  
His guardian turned back to look at him, searching the warlock's face with his piercing gaze. "You are most welcome, my boy." Gaius filled two bowls with some broth and trotted over to where Merlin sat, sliding into the chair opposite him. "You must tell me everything."  
The sun had long since set when Merlin began the end of his tale, and the two bowls of soup sat cold and untouched before them. Just as the warlock began to tell the story of the escape from The Mine, the physician's door burst open.  
"Gaius! I heard a rumor that Merlin was—" Gwenivere froze at the sight of her friend seated at the other side of the room. His face split into a wide smile.  
"Hello, Gwen."  
Merlin had just enough time to get up when Gwen rushed into his arms, her hands holding him close. Burying his face in her warm neck, he allowed her scent to overwhelm him-the scent of flowers and vanilla that he had so missed. She pulled away, looking at him for a moment before doing the unexpected thing—Gwen kissed him. Mind you, only for a second, but it was just long enough for him to feel the impossible softness of her lips. The pair looked at the each other in surprise, and blushes spread on the both of them.  
"Sorry…I just…I thought…I mean we thought you were..umm…dead."  
"It's alright," Merlin replied, still in shock. Gwen recovered quicker and pulled him closer. "Come on, you must tell me everything. Why were you gone for so long—"  
"Princess, while I understand your curiosity, Merlin's had a long day of traveling and should get to bed—he has quite a bit of explaining to do tomorrow."  
Merlin gave them both a sheepish smile. "Of course."  
Gwen returned it and hugged him again, squeezing him tightly, whispering in his ear. "I've missed you, magical farmboy."  
"And I you, Princess."  
She let him go reluctantly, turning to walk out the door with a quick goodnight and a final glance. Merlin stood starstruck in the center of the room, having forgotten how to form coherent words.  
"Merlin."  
"Yes, Gaius?"  
"Close your mouth, you don't want anything flying in."  
"Okay."  
"Merlin?"  
"Yes, Gaius?"  
"Go to bed."  
Merlin nodded and turned to walk the stairs up to his room, pausing at Gaius's voice.  
"And Merlin?"  
"Yes, Gaius?"  
"It's good to have you back."  
________________________________________  
The soft rays of sunlight woke Merlin the following morning. He turned in bed, enjoying the smell of the blankets. They smelled of herbs and home. He stretched, yawning widely and running his hand through his midnight black hair. Pain greeted him, as it did every morning, and he reached over to his bedside and drank some of the tonic Gaius had prepared him yesterday using the herbs Doc had given him. He slowly made his way out of bed, changing into a red tunic and brown trousers, wrapping a blue scarf round his neck to hide his bruises before walking downstairs.  
"Good morning."  
Gaius turned from where he was making breakfast, giving the warlock a warm smile. "Good morning to you, too. You're up early, I'd suspected that you'd sleep more."  
"Sleeping hasn't been my forte as of late."  
"Why?"  
"It's nothing." Merlin made his way to the dining table and began feasting on some fresh blueberries that sat there. Gaius followed him with two sandwiches, and the two settled to eat. However, the physician's mind was still on Merlin's lack of sleep.  
"You have bags under your eyes," he remarked, looking at his ward's tired face with concern.  
"Don't worry yourself—"  
"I've been worrying about you since the moment you left that door. Gwen wasn't overreacting last night when she said we'd thought you dead. We never suspected you'd run into trouble on the way there."  
"I'm sorry," Merlin replied softly. "I never meant for you to fear for me."  
"We're your friends, Merlin, it comes in the job description. Now why can't you sleep?"  
"Nightmares."  
"Nightmares? Just that?"  
"Yes…but no." Merlin ran his hand through his hair again, Gaius smiling to himself as the boy tustled up his hair further. "I don't think they are normal nightmares. See, I keep having the same dreams. I mean, they aren't the same dreams, but they're all similar. I keep seeing burning castles, and dragons, and scarlet cloaks, and a girl…a girl with black hair and green eyes." Merlin sighed. "This girl, I've never met her, I've never seen her before. But whenever she appears in my dreams, I keep getting these feelings that I don't understand."  
"Like what?"  
"Sadness, anger, disappointment, betrayal…love."  
"Does this girl have a name?"  
"No." Merlin sighed in frustration. "I see her, but I can't really describe her face. What does it mean, Gaius?"  
"You are a powerful sorcerer Merlin. It shouldn't be surprising that you see visions like this. These might as well be dreams of the future."  
Merlin was quiet for a moment before shaking his head in denial. "No, no. That's not right, that isn't the future, because if that's the future—then let's just say it sucks."  
"There is no right or wrong here, only what is and what isn't."  
"Yes, and that is not the future."  
Gaius shook his head at the warlock fondly. "You should probably go see your professors. They'll be eager to hear about your adventures."  
"More like eager to know why I got my ass kicked on my first trip."  
Laughing, the old physician got up and helped the warlock to his feet. "Off you go. You're already a month and a half late for class."  
His ward sighed again before opening the door, only to find Gwen about to do the same thing. The Princess hugged him quickly, and Merlin laughed. "Should I expect such affection every day?"  
"Only for today because it's your first back. I figured we might go to class together? Knowing your memory, I'm guessing you've already forgotten the way to the library."  
Even if that had been the case, Merlin was more than grateful for Gwen's companionship as he made his way down the endless corridors. When at last they reached their destination, the Princess bade him luck and went to sit with her tutors, leaving Merlin to climb up the familiar iron staircase to his training room alone.  
He found his professors talking amongst themselves when he knocked the door before entering. When they looked up and saw him, their faces split into wide smiles—well, Phillip and Edwin's did. Surevres just scowled.  
"Merlin!" Edwin rushed over and embraced him before pulling back, hand on the warlock's shoulder. "What happened to you? We thought we'd lost you."  
"Yes, Edwin was out of his mind, he wanted to send search parties after you," Phillip said fondly.  
"I ran into some trouble on the way there, but it's all behind me now."  
"Did you meet with the dragon?"  
"Yes—but not the way I planned."  
Edwin arched an eyebrow before conjuring some chairs. "Start from the beginning."  
________________________________________  
"And so after I spoke to the dragon, I guess I passed out, because the next thing I remember I was lying down in a druid's tent in their camp. There I met a druid who helped clarify things, and after a week of mending I was on my way back here." Merlin finished, searching his professors for their reactions to his tale. Except for murmers of shock when he spoke of The Mine, they had sat poker-faced through the whole tale, and by now Merlin was on edge—wondering what they must think of him.  
"That's quite a story…" Surevres said. "But is any of it true?"  
"Sorry?"  
"Well, forgive me if I find it hard to believe that there are bounty hunters who happen across sorcerers, capture them, and then use them to mine jewels for a dragon."  
"What do you want me to tell you?" Merlin replied, dumbfounded. "And if that isn't the truth, then what do you think I was doing this whole time?"  
"Perhaps you ran across some sorcerer whose been teaching you…your power feels rather amplified now that you've returned."  
"I'm telling the truth!"  
"Then prove it!" Sureveres snapped.  
"This is ridiculous," Edwin said. "Merlin, you don't have to—"  
"No," the warlock replied, eyes still on the dark-haired professor. "If he wants proof, then, he can have it." Merlin pulled off his shirt, and the professors' eyes widened at the bandages—the warlock had left out the whipping part because he didn't think it important to worry them over it. But at Sureveres's ill-placed accusations, he was prepared to show them what he had really been through. He began to unwrap the bandages, and when they lay on the floor, the inner most blood stained, Merlin turned around and let them see the wounds.  
There were unanimous gasps from behind him, and the warlock couldn't help but feel satisfied at Sureveres's wide-eyed stare.  
"Is that proof enough?" he asked quietly.  
"Yes…Yes of course," the professor answered.  
Merlin quickly wrapped himself up again, tying the bandage tightly before shrugging his shirt back on.  
"Now what other part of the story do you want me to prove?"  
"Merlin, we didn't mean that—"  
"Really? Because I'm sorry if I think it should be you doing the explaining. I've been away, trapped in a hellish mine, watching people being beaten to death, and all the while that I've been gone, you've been doubting my loyalty?"  
"Merlin—"  
"No, just listen for once in your lives," he snapped. "You've known all along, haven't you? You've known all along what my fate was, who I was, and why I'm like this. And instead of explaining it from the moment I walked into this bloody room, you waited a year and then sent me to go have a dragon tell me that I'm either going to destroy or save the kingdoms?"  
"We didn't want you to feel pressure—"  
"Well that didn't work, did it? You lied to me, all this time," he said, trying to disguise the hurt in his voice as anger. "All those times I asked you why I was like this, why I was born as a freak, a monster, you've told me you didn't know. And so here I am, three years before making this huge decision, and you still can't trust me?"  
"It's not that we don't trust you—"  
"THEN WHAT IS IT?!" The warlock shouted, getting up. "You sit there, questioning the truth in my story, and you know what? I know why. It's because you've been so careful in trying to ensure that when I make that decision, that it's because you molded me in such a way so that I can make the decision you want. You're afraid that I'll go bad," he added laughing bitterly. "You're afraid of me. If you feared me so much, then why didn't you kill me on that very first day? Why didn't you save yourself the trouble?"  
"…Because we wanted to give you a chance. Because we didn't want to judge you over something, because you're not—" Edwin spoke.  
"- My destiny? I'm not my destiny? Really? Because where I'm standing, it looks like that's all I am. Just some kid with this destiny to either go good or bad, and despite the fact when the moon eclipses, it'll be ME making the choice. Everyone knows about it except me."  
"Merlin—"  
"No, just don't, Edwin. I'm sick and tired of all these lies—"  
Surevres interrupted him harshly. "Well, boy, I'm sorry if we hurt your feelings, but we did what we did to protect you, so that you could live happily ever after for as long as you could. But being the spoiled brat that you are, you clearly cannot thank us for our consideration, so if you're so angry, you can just run along and go write about how you've been mistreated in your little diary—"  
"And you. What's your problem with me anyways?" Merlin interrupted Surevres. "Ever since I got here, you've given me nothing but crap. But you know what? I think now I finally know why. I'll bet that the day I arrived, you warned them about me. I'll bet you were demanding they kill me. Because you can't trust me. You'd think that after a year of seeing me almost every day that you'd know better than to think I'd turn my back on everything you've done for me for some well placed offer by some shady sorcerer I met on the road. That's not who I am. That's not who you taught me to be. All along you've been preaching how I have to use my power for good, but from the beginning, you knew there was a chance that I'd turn dark."  
"You can't blame him, Merlin, " Phillip said quietly. "Few who wield the power you were born with aren't tempted by the blacker aspects of the Old Religion."  
"And that's why you kept me hidden in the castle all this time. It's because you were afraid I'd run into a situation where my loyalties were tested, but you're in luck, because they haven't been. Despite the fact that you lied to me and don't trust me, my loyalty lies with you. But from now on, I don't need you as my teachers, because when my destiny comes knocking, it's going be me making the decision and not you. I don't need you breathing down my neck to ensure I choose what you want. Now, I've been traveling all week and I'm tired, so I'm going to ask to be excused." Merlin gave them a quick nod of the head before walking out, still fuming.  
Behind him, Edwin and Phillip turned on Sureveres. "You really did it this time, didn't you?" Edwin snapped.  
"I asked what we were all thinking, and what we all were saying when he was late. It's the reason we didn't let him go on any trips before this, you cannot blame me for posing the question—"  
"-And in turn question his loyalty? The last thing Merlin needs now is to think that the odds are against his favor. We should be supporting him in his decision, not calling to attention the fact that he may be destined to destroy the kingdoms."  
"Edwin is right, Sureveres. God knows the boy has been through an ordeal, and we can't go questioning his integrity the day he gets back. His trust in us is fundamental if we are to use him for the good of the kingdoms, and after this, I'm afraid he'll never trust us again."  
"What does it matter?" the dark-haired sorcerer replied bitterly. "Whether he trusts us or not is not of consequence. In the end we need him to do what we want him to do; he has little choice in the matter. You know that, both of you. You play the card that you care about him, that he means something to you, but in the end, when it comes to it, you'll need him to serve you in whatever way—if he likes it or not."  
"Surevres—"  
"No. I don't trust him, I don't like him, but I do respect him enough not to pretend that he has any choice in this. Now if you want to continue sugar-coating the matter, feel free to do so, but count me out." With that, the sorcerer left, black cloak trailing behind him.  
"Now what?" Phillip turned to Edwin, face grim.  
"What we always do, wait and hope for the best. We can go to him tomorrow, but let him cool down today."  
"Which one? Merlin or Surevres?"  
"Both, I'm afraid, both."  
________________________________________  
"Can you believe it? After a year of working my ass off for them, they still don't trust me. They watch me like I'm going to start shooting fireballs from my eyes." Merlin fumed, pacing back and forth.  
Gwen looked at him with large brown eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, you kind of might, Merlin. No one knows what the decision will be when the time comes, but until then, they have to guide you as best as they can. They are just acting in the interest of the kingdom."  
"I get that." The warlock sighed, sitting down heavily across from her. "But what I don't understand is why they didn't tell me about this earlier. I had a right to know. The prophesy is about me after all."  
"I don't pretend to know anything about this, but tell me, had they told you about this the very first day you arrived, would anything be different?"  
"Yes…No….I don't know. I would have been—"  
"-Better prepared? I doubt so. This past year you've been complaining about how hard they work you, and you didn't need the weight of an impending choice to weigh you down as you were training."  
"But that weight is still there, it's always been there, even if I didn't know it was. I'm still going to have to make that choice, but now—"  
"-You have only three years to prepare for it? I think that's enough. But you mustn't let that bother you. At least now you know that there is a purpose for your gifts, that's what you were searching for all along, wasn't it?"  
"I guess so." He leaned back and Gwen smiled at him.  
"Try not to dwell on it. You have three years. The date isn't moving, but even if they don't have faith in you, I do, and so do many others."  
"I don't know what I would do without you."  
"Probably shrivel up and die from the pressure. Now, what say you to a ride? Clear your mind."  
He turned to her for a second, quiet, before letting a smile light his face. "Beat you to the stables."  
"Doubtful."  
The two laughed and raced towards the barn, where saddling their horses, they rode out of the city gates and into the wide open fields of Glendale—and Merlin forgot about the prophesy for the first time since he had arrived.  
________________________________________  
"The letter has arrived from Camelot, my lord."  
"Tell me, has Uther agreed?"  
"Yes, my Lord, he says his delegation should arrive in two weeks."  
"Good, that should give us enough time to prepare and draft a peace plan. We've been at odds for too long."  
"Of course, my Lord."  
"Call in the court, everyone."  
"Right away, my Lord."  
"Thank you, Martin."  
The King of Glendale watched his servant as he left the room, and sighed, putting his head in his hands. This had better work or we'll be facing war.  
________________________________________  
Merlin and Gaius were one of the last to enter the room, and when the King was confident that everyone was present, he stood up and addressed the many persons in the room.  
"You all know that we've been at odds with Camelot for many years. These past months, tensions have risen to new highs. Uther knows of my plans to return to the old ways, and being the man he is, the King of Camelot isn't all too pleased. In order to see eye to eye and keep from war, he and I have decided to come together to draft a treaty. I know not what he'll demand, nor what he wants, however, as a sign of good intent, I've invited him to stay here as we write up an agreement. He's responded and told me that his delegation will be arriving in two weeks time." Merlin stiffened, and Gaius looked at him quickly before turning his attention back to the King.  
"Do not, however, take this as a sign of weakness. When he arrives here, we will hold feasts and dances like any welcoming host, but I need not remind you that this is Uther Pendragon we are dealing with. I'll need you all to be your sharpest, he mustn't take this as an advantage to use us. I cannot emphasize enough how much rests on this visit. If we are unsuccessful in writing a treaty, then war will surely break out—and we are not ready for that. Camelot's forces are powerful, and we still cannot match them with man power. Do I have your support in this matter?"  
The members of the court nodded and as the King dismissed them. He called for the physician to stay behind, and Merlin shot him a look before following the others out. After the last noble had left the room, King Leodogrance nodded for the guards to leave and close the door behind them.  
"My Lord?" Gaius asked questioningly.  
"Am I doing the right thing?"  
"I'm sorry, my Lord. I don't quite understand…"  
"I'm inviting our sworn enemy to the castle, and expecting him to play by the rules."  
"It's the only way to make peace, my lord."  
"I know that, but that's why I needed to speak to you. Your boy, Merlin, how is he?"  
"He arrived from a trip only a week ago," Gaius replied. "But what does Merlin have to do with this?"  
"Everything. He's our only chance of bringing magic back. We lose him, and we have nothing. He is the key to limiting Uther's power, and Camelot knows it. You must promise me, Gaius, that you'll keep him safe."  
"Of course, my lord."  
"And Gaius?"  
"Yes?"  
"You know that should war break out, he is our greatest weapon."  
"He's just a boy—"  
"No. He's the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, the one thing that Uther fears more than everything. If anything, he is the reason Camelot hasn't declared war on us yet. Ensure that his loyalties are with us, and ensure that he's prepared to fight for Glendale."  
"I hope it doesn't go so far."  
"As do I, but we must be prepared for the worse."  
"Is that all, my Lord?"  
"Yes, Gaius, thank you."  
Over at the other side of the castle, Gaius was receiving the same treatment from his young ward.  
"Uther despises magic, He's going to kill me."  
"Don't be a fool, Merlin. You have the protection of the King. To hurt you would be declaring war on Glendale."  
"As if Uther really cares about war. He's made it quite clear that his mission in life is to destroy everything that has to do with the Old Religion, and I'm the biggest example in that category."  
"That is true, but you had to know that you'd eventually have to face Camelot. Their hatred of magic is another reason for you to practice even more. You're our weapon against Uther, the one thing he fears. If you can show the people that magic can be used as a force for good, then the old ways may return, and magic can be accepted again. This will not only undermine Camelot's influence, but it'll put Uther's reign of terror at question."  
"…Which is why he's going to kill me."  
"Yes…wait, no! Uther is not going to like you, but inside these walls, you are safe. Under the protection of the King, Uther cannot touch you."  
Merlin sighed softly. "Two weeks?"  
"Two weeks."  
And what a two weeks they were. The whole castle—no, the whole CITY—was in a mad flurry of action. Here and there were some servants sweeping the halls, there were grooms cleaning the stables, and in the court rooms the politicians practiced their poker faces.  
Things were no different for Merlin. His tasks were not only time consuming, but tiring, so by the end of each long day, the warlock lay in bed, back sore and aching, ready for Camelot's delegation to finally arrive. But still his stomach housed butterflies, for with each coming day neared the arrival of a group who was sure to scorn and hate him for the way he was born. Attempting to stay positive, Merlin gushed with Gwen about the coming days, complained at all the right moments about how rude those from Camelot would surely be, and admired the many new gowns she was receiving—the Princess had to look perfect. Merlin didn't envy her, and jokingly made this clear to her, receiving a few of her signature glares.  
But whether Merlin was ready or not for the Camelot delegation to arrive, it did, punctual, arriving when expected. And so two weeks from the day he received the news, the raven-haired warlock stood on the steps of the castle with the other members of the gifted court, Gaius by his side. It was past the afternoon, so the light was dimming in the sky. Shadows stretched down the courtyard, and a soft breeze rustled their clothes. When Camelot arrived, it was the display those from Glendale expected.  
They came on the backs of well-groomed horses, their red capes sweeping behind them. Their banners waved in the breeze, the golden dragon embroidered proudly on the scarlet fabric. The knights wore chainmail and helmets that shined in the sun, and at their head rode none other than Uther Pendragon himself.  
Rounder than expected, the King of Camelot had a bright red nose but severe expression, his graying hair the color of steel. At his side rode who must only be his son, Arthur Pendragon.  
The man destined to bring forth Albion with me, thought the warlock meekly upon seeing the proud, golden-haired youth riding at his father's side. But Merlin's attention soon turned to the King's other side, where rode Uther Pendragon's ward. She was just as beautiful as rumors had conveyed: long black hair braided down her back, face as smooth and pale as porcelain, eyes the color of her emerald green gown, and lips the most sinful red. But she was another thing, a thing that meant a lot to the warlock who stood watching her from his position on the stairs to a castle.  
She was the lady from his nightmares.


End file.
